Unlikely
by Lulu-Lola-Lovely
Summary: A playmate for Wade? The team has its doubts when Stryker makes the bold and risque choice of adding some estrogen to their ranks, rankling the chains of some, and tossing a little temptation at others. Can they handle it? Worse, can she handle them?
1. Chapter 1

Blanket disclaimer: I own nothing that has been copywritten, franchised, marketed, and/or already taken under copywrite law. Furthemore, all ANs will be featured at the end of each chapter.

* * *

William Stryker was almost happy, looking down at a file on his desk. She was of age, alone, and vulnerable. She needed someone looking out for her, someone to treat her like she was special. She'd had training, knew her powers, knew how to defend herself. She was all alone in a new city, a college girl, so alone without her Daddy and his friends looking after her. She'd be a fine addition to his team, an asset to the pool.

She was sweeter than ripe fruit from the tree, and who better to pluck her?

"Round up the men, North," Stryker slipped her file back into his desk. "We have a young lady to collect." He stood, brushing past his gunman as though he was nothing more than a stick of furniture.

"_We're_ going?" Zero trailed after him, feeling a little put out and confused. "As a group?" He looked pained, knowing full well how Wade behaved when he was cooped up in the plane, fearing even worse in a moving vehicle with windows that rolled down. "Sir,"

"This one is something special, Zero," Stryker sounded pleased, like the well-fed cat staring up at an empty canary cage. "I'd like to see how she takes to them, firsthand."

"That's not practical, sir," Zero's face took on a pissed, pinched look. "Women aren't made for this kind of work,"

"This woman," He pushed open the door and looked around at his soldiers. "Is the exception." Zero followed him inside, not bothering to close the door.

"The exception?" Zero spit the word unbelievingly. "Sir, I have yet to see a woman who could handle this sort of work, let alone live this way without cracking under the reality that her world is not puppy dogs and bubble baths."

"Her?" Wade perked up over his box of SweeTarts. "We're getting a girl?" He popped another palmful of candies into his mouth. "A real one, with hips and curves and everything?" Heads shot up around the room, everyone gaping at Stryker as though he'd announced that he was a fairy princess.

The ghost of a smile crossed Stryker's face, as he looked back on the flabbergasted Zero. "Think of her as a playmate for Wade." He indicated the other man, sitting on the couch of the common room.

Wade dropped his candy box, which was unsurprisingly empty. "Playmate? Like a Playboy Playmate?" He perked further, bouncing on the couch. "I get a Playboy Bunny! I get a Playboy Bunny!"

"Jesus," Victor and James looked pained, the formers' nails lengthening slowly.

"Load up, men." Stryker waved at Zero to continue the assemblage. "Twenty minutes to take-off."

* * *

Off all the places in the world to make a pick up, it had to be Ohio.

"The Bunny Hutch, Gentleman's Club and Lounge." Bradley read aloud. "Sounds like a Playboy knock-off."

"She's here?" North didn't bother to disguise the disgust in his voice. "We're recruiting at strip joints now? Our incredible new recruit is a goddamn stripper?"

"All right, a stripper!" The swordsman was all but jumping on Stryker's back while he spoke in undertones to the man who owned the club. "Score ten for Wade!"

James tamped down on the urge to knock him out. "Shut it, kid," The combined scents of Wade, candy, adrenaline, and the street were churning his stomach. "It's a nightclub."

"You're just jealous because I get a stripper playmate, and all you've got's Victor." Wade hip-checked James good-naturedly, grinning. "Hope she's got big tits."

The moment they were allowed into the smoky atmosphere of the club, it became apparent that this wasn't the sort of establishment many of them would be apt to frequent. The furnishings were done with more class, there were no topless girls or overturned tables to suggest a recent brawl. There wasn't an animal head mounted anyplace, and everything looked clean and shiny. Girls walked the room, which was no surprise, dressed in an array of fashions.

A leggy brunette seemed to be walking toward them, and Wade studied her critically, as though sizing her up. She wore a short black and white Mod dress with black go-go boots, her dark hair cut into a precise bob, heavy eyeliner rimming the small green orbs. There was a distinct stripper-strut to her walk; she was easy on the eyes and had long legs that seemed to go on for miles, up to the scandalously high hem of her skirt.

"Damn," He pouted. "She's part of the itty bitty titty committee," He frowned at the Mod girl, who ignored him.

"What?" Bradley stared at him until the girl walked away, ignoring them at large, breaking into a gentle trot to fling herself into the arms of an older man.

"My, my, my," Wraith grinned at a pretty, buxom, strawberry blonde in a sheer, silvery white evening gown. "Now what would your daddy say?"

"What my daddy don't know won't hurt him," She wrapped herself around his arm. "You want a dance?" She flashed him a smile, dimples playing in her cheeks. "I'm a real good dancer, and I've never had a complaint."

"Maybe later," Gently, he took his arm back. "I'm working right now."

"Your loss," She strolled away, her dress shimmying and swaying with each switch of her hips.

"That's not her either?" Wade watched the blonde saunter away. "Aw." He tailed Stryker, who walked around tables, easily navigating the room silently. A record player was on, the soulful sounds of Elvis Presley soft in the background for the older men sipping their drinks in smoke-screened booths, waited on by petite girls in miniscule outfits. Oddly enough, not a head turned when the passed, as though all the ladies present were accustomed to this sort of deal.

A tall, slim girl in bell-bottom jeans and a long sleeve, black and white striped shirt was up on one of the side stages, twirling herself around a pole. She leaned back, kicking a sneakered foot up high on the pole, allowing the weight of her body to swing her in a lazy arc. Her long, curly hair brushed the floor, her pale skin almost translucent to James and Victor, who could see every inch of her as clearly as if she stood before them. Slim and lithe, firm breasts that sat high on her chest despite their size, narrow waist and gently curved hips. She looked small, but James would bet his beer she packed a wallop.

"Adanya Natalia Winters," The girl on stage froze in mid-swing, taking her leg off the pole almost instantly and standing back up. She whirled around, looking spooked. "Now what would your father say, to see you swinging around a pole?" Stryker sounded almost amused, watching the girl smooth down her shirt, blushing daintily.

"He'd say '_get your ass down off that pole, Adanya, Winters' women only take off their clothes for their husbands_'." She imitated, squaring her shoulders and using a gruff voice. "But I'm not taking anything off, now am I?" She came to the edge of the stage, crouching down. "Just messing around,"

"What are you doing up there, Adanya?" Stryker gave her a fond look, much to Zero's surprise.

"I work here," She didn't sound thrilled to admit it. "You didn't see the board, I'm their singer." She jerked a thumb over her shoulder. "That's my cage,"

"A cage?" He reached up, hands around her waist.

"Birds sing in gilded cages," She put her hands on his shoulders, allowing him to help her down. "As do mermaids, bikini girls, tigers, bunnies," She looked better up close, away from the lights. Her eyes were a delicate shade of maroon. "Sometimes I swing." She pointed upward, at the trapeze decorated with flowers.

"Adanya, really,"

"Puts dinner on the table." She shrugged easily, fidgeting with her sleeves. "What brings you here?" Last she heard, he'd buried a wife in the ground and buried himself in work; they hadn't spoken since her sixth birthday, and now she was helping put herself through college.

"I have an offer for you," The look on his face was vaguely sinister. "Something more worthwhile than swinging on poles."

"I was just fooling around," She sniffed, looking thoroughly wounded. "Though I'm open for suggestion," She linked her arm through his with her most charming smile. "Let's hear it, then."

* * *

She slept in their quarters.

Stryker had the fucking nerve to put a fucking frail in the middle of their space, with her smelly stuff and her _girl_ products and her scented candles and her incense, and her three garbage bags of clothes, in the middle of their private space. Hers was the room nearest the door, the one that was just a bit nicer than the rest, mainly because she'd spent the better part of a day cleaning it before she'd lay her things down. Their common room smelled strongly of cleanser because of her, which was more than enough to make James' eyes burn and start Victor to cursing. Her room had already been partially decorated; she had a record player, go figure, stocked with piles of albums in pristine condition, and she had several neat stacks of books and magazines. Instead of standard issue bedding, she had a powder blue bedspread and matching pillows, things she'd brought from her matchbox apartment. She had a guitar in the corner that looked like it hadn't been played in a while.

"What's this?" Wade walked in, unannounced and uninvited, and picked up a plain, light blue cardboard box from her bed, beside her shampoo; bottles of _Gee, Your Hair Smells Terrific_ and _Lemon Up_. The _Noxzema_ and _Avon _and_ Love's Baby Soft _he recognized as normal girlish staples, but not the blue box. Hells bells, she even had _Softique_. He'd have to steal it, or find a way to climb in the tub with her. That shit was nice.

"Girl stuff," She dropped the box she'd been pawing through, eyes wide. "Leave it…"

"What kinda…" He peeled open the top, looking inside. "Ugh!" He dropped the box, several tampons spilled out over the bed. "You could'a warned a guy,"

"I said it was girl stuff," She stuffed it all back in the box, stashing it under her pillow for safekeeping. "Do you need something?"

"I'm here to test the bedsprings," He flopped on her bed, brushing aside a box of bandages. "Hop up, it's a two, maybe three person job." Idly, he picked up her teddy bear, playing with the floppy ears. He danced the bear over his lap, down onto the bed. "Come on up, Anya, I'm lonely." His eyebrow lifted when he saw a bar of _Turkish Taffy_ peeking out of a bag filled with colorful boxes. She had candy.

"I'll pass?" She took the bear from him, almost shyly. "And my name's Adanya, not Anya."

Wade smirked a little; Stryker told them to play nice. "Maybe next time," He leaned back on her pillow, sweeping a hand underneath it, knocking all her personal things to the floor. "You play?" He looked at the guitar, wondering how long it would be before they were all treated to really bad chick music about peace and love and flowers, or John 'borrowing' it for something to play with when he got bored. Above her bed, literally above the space where he lay, she'd tacked a poster of Jim Morrison to the ceiling.

"I sing," She shoved her things under the bed, blushing a furious shade of crimson. God help her if he decided to play in her clothes. "That was my job at the Hutch, I was a singer."

"So do it." He sat up, pinning her with a deep, intense stare that seemed to drink up her essence and swallow her soul.

Adanya was suddenly very aware of the seduction lingering behind the charm and mirth in those incredible brown eyes. "I'm unpacking," She threw a gesture at the bags of clothes, the things she still had to put away.

"Wade!" Stryker's voice in the common room made both of them jump; Adanya dropped her bear. "Get out of there and give her some peace!"

* * *

She was late for dinner; such as it was, drawing attention to herself when the double doors swung open. Seemed like every head in the mess hall swung around to get a look at the only female operative not wearing a nurses uniform, or handling the wash. She was something else, walking around bold as brass in her short-sleeved blouse and blue jeans, as though she'd always been there. James could smell woodsy, spicy shampoo and thought immediately of _Herbal Essences_; at least she smelled good. It'd be a nice switch up from blood, sweat, and body odor. Her hair was down, loose over her shoulders, a cascade of dark chocolate curls down her back. Several heads turned when she walked out with her tray, her nose wrinkled, though she had the good grace (and good sense) to pretend she hadn't seen anything.

"Some things never change," Adanya set down her tray, looking down at her high-protein, mostly brown, gravy soaked dinner. "Food still sucks." She fell into a seat beside Wraith, her nose still wrinkled. "High protein, my ass, I'll stick to jerky and Maypo cereal." She poked the meat with her fork, watching gravy slide off. "I've seen better looking crap in MRE cans,"

"Girls don't…" Bradley stopped short at her fierce glare, as though she knew where his sentence was headed.

"Women have been in the armed forces since the nineteen forties," She spit her words like acid. "Even before that, women served alongside their husbands in the battlefield; during every war, every conflict."

"Not in combat, sweetheart." James flashed her a cocky, almost mocking smile over his food. "Your kind mighta been there, but they weren't fighting."

"Nurses were taken as POWs, right off the front lines." She informed them brusquely. "You gonna tell me it's not combat to fight off an animal trying to rape or kill you, or your friends?" Her odd maroon eyes flashed. "And I'll have you know, 'my kind' did combat support in world war two," She shoved her food away, her stomach suddenly hollow. "Even before that, _my_ kind were picking up rifles and shooting right alongside anyone else, picking up for the dead and wounded."

"Not for me,"

"Like you were _there_," She rolled her eyes. "This double-standard sexist bullshit is getting so old." Everything came right back down to this; she was a _chick_; she was supposed to shove daisies down their rifles, not shoot them. She was supposed to be a nurse, be someone's helper, bring the boys back to health so they could run back to the front lines. She was supposed to be soft and warm and gushy, not lean and muscular and hard. None of them would expect her to have their back, but they'd all come running the minute she made a peep.

"We didn't see chicks in Korea or 'Nam, either." Victor's overlong incisors caught the light and gleamed. "Less they were in the rice fields or spreading their legs." He put a rougher edge in his voice, leaning forward a touch to stare at her. "That what you're here for, sweetheart? Help us work off some tension," He pumped a fist over his lap with a leer.

A cold look came to Adanya's pretty face; James could see her vowing to kill Victor very soon. "Victor, she's a kid," He gave his brother a sharp look, already feeling six kinds of sorry for the girl, plunked down in a group of men without a lick of sense to her head. "Let her alone."

"You gotta work off some tension, I suggest you look to your left." Adanya leaned her elbow on the table; head in hand, looking sideways at them. "He's got a nice, tight ass, doesn't he?" She quirked her lips, almost a smile. "Pretty mouth too, bet he sucks real good." She gave James a slow, lazy look; the softness of her eyes betraying the sultry pout of her lips, her words. Poor girl didn't have the first clue about talking dirty, or acting like a vicious hussy. Too damn innocent.

"It's a damn good thing you're Stryker's little pet project, bitch," Victor leaned over the table, pinning her with a vicious stare that should have sent her screaming. "You talk about my brother again, I'll take off that pretty face of yours and nail it to my wall."

"I'm not scared of you," She straightened up, hunching her shoulders in fair imitation, leaning forward. "Bet my little finger's bigger than your whole dick." She wiggled her pinky at him, the nail shiny with green polish. Her voice wavered a little over _dick_, and James reckoned she hardly ever used the word in a sexual manner; she had to be more accustomed to using it as someone's name.

"Ooh, she got you there, Vicky!" Wade made a tally mark over his head in the air. "Ding!"

"Little girl," John spoke up finally. "You best quit while you're ahead." He gave her a meaningful look, trying to convey what words couldn't quite. He didn't want to embarrass her on her first day in, or invoke the wrath of the anything-you-can-do-I-can-do plebe.

"Come on, big boy," Adanya flattened her palms on the table suddenly, as though she was going to charge him head-on. "Whip the little fella out." She stood up, one hand sneakily clutching a fork behind her back, her body language taunting. "Promise, I won't laugh too hard." From her sights, he hadn't seen her palm the fork, nor was he paying attention to it. He was staring at her face, her throat, a wicked grin on his lips.

"Victor," James grabbed his wrist when he stood up, the taller man half-jerking him out of his chair with a step. "Victor, she's just trying to…"

"I ain't gonna hurt her, Jimmy," He shook off his brother easily, leaping over the table in a fluid motion, landing in front of Adanya in a crouch. "I'm gonna make her squeal is all," Behind him, Wraith and Bradley all but ran around the table, waiting for the first glorious spray of blood so someone could end the fight and send the girl packing.

"Bigger men than you have tried, and failed." Adanya danced backward when he stood up, looming over her, hand still behind her back. Her **Keds** were silent on the concrete floor, whereas his hobnail boots thudded.

"I ain't like other men, princess." He grinned wide, showing her an expanse of short, sharp teeth and a pair of elongated incisors, hooked like fangs. "I ain't gonna stop 'cause you can't take it," She bristled at the pet name.

"Dumb broad," Bradley murmured quietly, beside James. "Trying to fucking prove a point, he's gonna kill her."

"Nah, she'll get his balls first," Fred liked her from first glance, and was silently rooting for her while the others looked wary. She was cute, she smelled good, she was polite until provoked; he couldn't help but like her, and if nothing else, it gave him something new to look at.

"Does she even know where they are?" Wraith flashed Wade a withering stare. "Feels like we snatched her from Communion,"

"She came from a night club," Wade rolled his eyes affectedly. "That's not exactly a Christian church."

"Look at her face, she's a kid."

"So's Wade," James replied in kind, his narrowed eyes on Victor's back, watching him stalk Adanya in a slow circle around a couple tables. "But look what he does for fun."

"Hey!" Wade almost missed the strike, when Victor leapt at Adanya with claws bared, aiming for her shoulders. "_Shit_!"

She sidestepped him quickly, falling into a sloppy cartwheel that landed her on her ass; right where she wanted to be. He crashed into a table amid cheers, regrouping quickly and rounded on her, stalking forward, a quirk of his eyebrow betraying him when she mimicked the motion, lurching forward on hands and knees, the fork still clutched tight in her fist. Her eyes were narrowed, her lips pursed; Victor didn't register the sudden halt of his body until she'd stood up, looming over him like a bed sheet on the clothesline. His body felt weak, his joints loose and wobbly, his nails clicked harmlessly on the floor.

Adanya smirked. "Stryker tells me you've got a nifty healing factor." She lifted the hand holding the fork, still pressed flat to her wrist, keeping him as still as she could while gloating. Mostly, she had to be silent and still while using her powers, especially with guys as big and muscular as him. She trembled, feeling the drain, his own powers battling hers for dominance, winning.

"Something else tells me you don't," She was losing it, he found strength enough to rise, towering over her like the big bad wolf, turned on to think of himself as the bogeyman, her nightmares realized. He took a step forward, watching her tremble, overworked from trying to keep him still. Both hands lifted, aiming for the soft flesh of her belly, savoring the taste of success, lazy in his efforts as he prepared to disembowel her.

"_Hai_!" She cut loose with a wild, shrieking cry, her fist flying forward, a gleam of metal overcoming his vision even as his claws scraped her belly, knocking her off balance when she tried to get away from him. She fell back on her side, twisting into a crouch, low to the ground and ready to strike. She narrowed her eyes and forced herself to focus in again.

Victor hadn't seen the fork, nor had he expected her reflexes to be so spot on. He fell heavily, when his head went numb and he felt her foot connect with his jaw, sending him sprawling on his backside, fork still jammed in his eye. She had reflexes like a wound spring, and agility like a caged jungle cat; a sneaker-clad foot came to rest on his chest, while the other lay on his wrist, if he got any cute ideas about cutting her tendons with his claws, he'd have to reach over, and she could see that coming.

"Now who's the bitch?"

She spit at him, delivering one last kick to his stomach, and walked calmly back to the table. "I'll see you boys later," She picked up the tray and sauntered off, handing it to a random man in uniform before strolling out the double doors casually.

"She's feisty!" Wade bounced on his seat excitedly, watching Victor pull the fork out of his bleeding eye socket. "I like her!"

* * *

I'm going to have a final chapter after the story is complete, explaining all the references to the fifties, sixties, and seventies. It could be as simple as mentioning that Coca Cola syrup was still mixed up fresh with soda water at Pharmacy soda fountains for about five cents a glass, or something as nerdy as explaining the ritual for eating Turkish Taffy. My goal is to keep this as historically correct as I can, with a few blatant, obvious, slap-you-upside-the-head moments along the way. Those moments will be inserted into Author's Notes, but other Pop Culture refs will not be addressed until the end.

Please do not ask me to explain something archaic that you don't understand in a review or a PM, as I'm going to cover it all in the end anyway. If you really have to know, look it up yourself.

Thank you for reading, please review (logged in or not, I'm not fussy) and tell me what you think.


	2. Chapter 2

Walking back from the mess hall, James smelled cherries. He'd calmed Victor down to a dull roar, setting him loose outside like he would an unruly housecat, letting him prowl and roam and hunt off his anger. Wasn't totally Adanya's fault; she had to show a little brass if she wanted their respect. Victor had given the bait, and she's risen admirably, like a true show-off Army Brat.

Wade had giggled about it all through the rest of their quiet dinner, relating the story quite cheerfully when Stryker turned up looking for her. Their colonel seemed someplace between disappointed and gleeful; she could handle herself with his most ruthless killer. He warned them all, once again, that Adanya was off-limits, untouchable, and most assuredly out of Wade's league, even if they could be playmates, and disappeared back into his office with a glass of brandy and one of their pretty young laundry girls.

The smell of cherries was accompanied by myriad scents of an old book, a young woman, and carbonated soda. The cleanser smell had died down some, and Adanya's door was open, he could smell traces of perfume and her candles. They found her sitting on their couch, reading a copy of _Jane Eyre_, a glass bottle of Coca Cola on the floor. She didn't look up when they filed in, instead she set down her book on a denim clad thigh and twisted the cap off a small metal tin, swiping her pinky inside and smoothing a faintly pink gel over her top lip.

James got a noseful of pungent cherry. "What the fuck?" He stared at it.

"Lip balm," She dipped her pinky again, smoothing it over her bottom lip. "You need some?" She offered the tin of pink goop.

He gaped at her like she'd grown a second head. "For what?" He'd seen the stuff come in tubes, but it never reeked like that.

"So my lips don't dry out and crack," Her brow furrowed. "You've never had chapped lips?"

"Healing factor,"

She nodded. "Lucky," She knew a little about him and Victor, just for safety's sake, but not much else.

"How's your stomach?" The front of her blouse was shredded, but she'd changed clothes since then.

"Not a scratch." She picked up her soda, closing her eyes and taking a long drink. "God I miss this stuff, it feels so…sparkly." She gazed at the empty bottle appreciatively. "Light and sparkly."

"Got any more?" Fred looked hopeful.

"Uh-huh," She set the bottle down. "You know, I once cut my foot open on a broken Coke bottle," She reached down and rubbed her foot through her sock, wincing a little. "Seventy-two stitches and two weeks without going swimming."

"So, you've got more?" Fred repeated, coveting her empty bottle.

"In my room; I bought a case last time Sunny and I went grocery shopping," She bit her glossy lower lip. "I hope she finds the note okay. I mean, he did leave my share of the rent for a few months, but she'd pop her cork to find me gone." She stood up and wandered to her bedroom, taking her book with her. She reappeared a moment later, holding a bottle and a bag.

"Sneaking food on base?" Wade eyed the bag of chips in her hand as she offered soda to Dukes. "Tsk, tsk, Stryker won't like that." He watched the bag with a wicked gleam in his eye. "There's a ban on junk food," He reached for the bag playfully, grabbing her knee as she sat down.

"So?" Adanya swatted his hands away, settling herself on her end of the couch. "I didn't sneak anything, he watched me pack." She ripped the bag open with relish, inhaling the aroma of freshly opened corn chips. "Yum."

"You are just fearless, aren't you, kitten?" Wade helped himself to a handful of forbidden chips; salty, crunchy, greasy, delicious calories.

"I'm a horrible army child, I have no sense of discipline unless my Dad's around." She popped a couple chips in her mouth. "And even then I'm cocky." She passed the bag to James, as she'd been taught. "It's gonna tone down a bit, I'm usually quite docile and charming." She shrugged. "Must be all the testosterone." The bag landed back in her lap.

"It does tend to run a bit thick." He stuck his hand in her face. "I'm Wade, the awesome one."

She realized, for the first time, they'd never been introduced. "Adanya, the girl."

"The merc with tits!" He crowed, loud and gleeful. "You're my playmate, you know. Stryker said so." He waggled his eyebrows at her.

"And you listen to everything he says, huh?" She busied herself with another chip, not daring to make eye contact.

"How often do you wear pants?" Dukes laughed, setting his empty Coke bottle on the table. "Sittin' all prissy with your legs crossed,"

"Hardly ever," She looked at her crossed legs, shifting to sit with them folded beneath her. "My roommate wears blue jeans and bell-bottoms all the time, I borrowed a few pairs of hers to try out." She ate a few more chips, her hand brushing Wade's in the bag. "I guess I should find some more or buy them, I'm not sure my clothes are going to work so well here." She gave a nervous giggle. "Unless Woolworth sweater sets are popular on the battlefield?"

"So how does Stryker know you?" James looked at her almost pityingly. "We didn't get a dossier, so none of us really expects you to stick around."

She ignored the barb. "He's friendly with my dad," She looked up to see Wraith enter the room. "General Malcolm Alexander Winters," A note of pride entered her voice.

"General, huh?" James let out a long, slow whistle. "And you're a doozy,"

"He wasn't around much when I was a kid," Her nose twitched. "But he did make it to almost every birthday, and most Christmases." She brightened. "What he lacks in fatherly insight, he makes up for in instinct and loving discipline."

"That works?" An eyebrow lifted.

"Mostly," A small, secret smile lit up her face. "He's my hero, and I'm his loving, adoring, princess Adanya." She laughed at their expressions. "He spoils me." She lifted the gold chain around her neck for emphasis.

James could see a small silver crucifix on the end. "Who raised you, your mother?" The cross looked like something a mother would give her daughter, some coming of age thing.

"Nope, dad's friends." A shadow came to her face. "Mom passed away birthing me, and Daddy couldn't take me with him whenever he had to go, so he'd parcel-post me from house to house, base to base, with people who took care of me when he couldn't." She looked miserable. "It's how I know Stryker, before his wife died they took care of me for a while."

"Ouch." Wade made a face. "And here's me all young and beautiful. Damn a girl with Daddy issues,"

"Never told him the same story twice," She brushed her hair back, away from her face and brightened. "And I always had a new recipe for him to try."

"Is this you being docile and charming?" Bradley joked, nudging her arm almost flirtingly.

"Honestly, I'm tired." She dropped her half-full bag of chips on Wade's lap with a yawn. "Have some _Frito's_, I'm going to bed." She stood up and stepped around them, smothering a yawn behind her hand. Normally, she and Sunny would be relaxing with a scoop of ice cream, or sipping lemon tea and watching television.

"Sleep tight, princess," Victor was at the door to greet her, before she could step into her room. There was blood slopped down his chin, over the front of his shirt.

Instead of smirking, her shoulders stiffened. "Fuck you," She bristled when any man other than her father called her princess; most men were smart enough to know so from word one.

And for once, her cursing didn't sound silly or cute.

* * *

Around nine twenty-five, Wade got bored. Picking on Chris could only do so much for him, as the smaller man was apt to take it all with one of his nervous little laughs and go back to playing with his model planes and light bulbs. He scaled the back of the couch and sauntered to Adanya's door, opening it casually and starting inside. James and John both bristled, looking ready to hustle the youngster from the room bodily if he got to be too much. She might be a lot of brassy little girl, but Wade could be harder to get rid of than fleas when he had a mind to stick around.

Adanya met him two steps in; her record player on and a candle burning. "You lost, Wade?" She belted her robe quickly, before he got a look at her nightclothes.

"No," He tried to push past her into the room, but she pushed him back just as determinedly.

"This isn't your room," Adanya folded her arms under her breasts, standing in his way.

"Tradition," He offered charmingly. "I always sleep with the new kid."

"Huh," If anyone believed that, they deserved whatever came their way. "And what if I like _girls_?" She lifted her eyebrows.

Wade's face lit up like a Roman candle. "Really?"

"If you're lonesome, go cuddle with Bradley or Dukes." A half smile curved her lips. "You're not getting into my bed, Wilson, I'm not that kind of girl."

"So come play in mine." He tugged on her hands playfully, flashing her his cutest grin with the irresistible puppy eyes. "Come on, I'll think about changing the sheets for you." He gave her another grin. "I don't do that for just anyone, you know."

"I don't think so," She closed the door quietly, giggling. Wade could feel her lean against it, heard her head hit the door as she succumbed to a sweet, girlish giggling fit that he hadn't overheard in years. Most girls leapt for their beds, assuming whatever position they thought would please him; she closed the door in his face and laughed about it behind his back.

Tease.

"Anya, _Anya_; come out and play." Wade pawed at her door like a child, leaning against it. "Anya!"

The door swung open; Adanya wore a shark-like grin. "You got a rubber?" The belt was loose; almost loose enough for Wade to get a look at what was underneath. Somehow the mystery was far sexier than knowing. There was something to be said for girls who kept their clothing on, the damn teases.

"Oh…" Wade's eyes went wide and bright like a child on Christmas morning. "Hold that thought, and don't move." He backed up a couple steps, watching her. "Don't you move!" A shriek of laughter echoed in the halls as he bolted away.

"Don't hurt yourself!" Adanya yelled after him, stepping out of her room to look around. Nine-thirty and not one of them looked ready for bed. "Is he always like this?" She inquired to the room at large, watching Bradley's model plane zooming in circles over their heads.

"Yep." James nodded, eyeing her modest blue cotton robe. Her toenails wore pink polish.

"Somehow I think Uncle Billy glossed over that detail." Adanya shook her head, rolling her eyes affectedly. "Good night, you guys." She disappeared into her room again, the slow hum of the record player going silent.

"Night." Fred waved a hand at her, engrossed in a late night television show, with dancing girls.

"Uncle Billy?" Bradley repeated quietly, staring at her closed door. "Jesus." His plane sputtered and landed roughly. "Jesus Christ, what does she think this is, summer camp? They'll eat her alive."

"Who knows?" Wraith shrugged, leaning back on the sofa, tipping his hat over his eyes. "Skirts are strange."

* * *

First and foremost, I'd like to thank LoveAmongEmbers for being the one person ballsy enough to tell me how badly I'd done with the original chapter two. It was bunk, and I know it, I just really wanted to keep this going and see what would happen. I was really disappointed in myself, and anyone reading this should have been equally disappointed as well.

Okay, I'm not mentioning historical accuracy anymore. I did it a couple times to clarify what was going on, and I kept it up because people keep telling me it's cool, but right now I want to shove a PSP in there just to screw with it. I left the old A/Ns as they were, but please people, stop telling me about it. Just appreciate it quietly, please?

My goal with historical accuracy was spurred on by all the lack of inaccuracy I've been reading. Sure, most authors recant and play the AU card, but I think adding my OC to the team makes it AU enough that everything else should be as real world as I can manage. Some fics I've read have done nearly flawless jobs of weaving in comic-verse, (Deadly Memories, by Cadet Deming comes to mind) and others have pretty wonderfully woven sweetness, drama, and a sort of latently dark humor (MercDaddy, by Vamp'sAngel) and I strive to be on par with those who've impressed and inspired me.

I'm trying to keep Adanya from being a Mary-Sue, so if she ever steps out of line, please tell me quickly. I know her powers are really wicked, but it's a plot point; why else would Stryker want her?


	3. Chapter 3

**

* * *

**

Anyone who read chapter 2 BEFORE August 26 2009 is advised to re-read it before embarking on this chapter, to avoid confusion.

* * *

James awoke to the smell of fresh coffee. Victor, who'd been prowling all night and still smelled pretty ripe, rolled over and buried himself in his pillows. For such a tough guy, he had three or four pillows on his bed, which never failed to make his brother smile. Big bad Victor liked to sleep in fluff. James slipped on an undershirt to go with his sweatpants, not wanting to overwhelm some poor dame sent for their laundry, or bringing them food. More often than not, they kept to "their" wing of the building, the other men got nervous with Stryker's special ops team running around. Not enough discipline. They'd tried keeping food down there, but Fred was a nervous, bored, tired, any excuse really, eater and Wade had a tendency to mix things just to see what colors he could puke up later.

He slipped out of their shared room; his eyes keen in the darkness. Nobody but Adanya, sitting at the table, stirring a bowl of Cheerios into a milky, mushy swirl. She lifted her head when he came out of the darkness, her maroon eyes wary. "Morning," She dropped her gaze back to the bowl.

"You're up early," She'd woken up before him, which was a rarity. Quiet too, she'd hardly made noise getting herself breakfast. He was going to wake her up and sit her down, have a talk with her, but she'd beat him halfway there.

"Used to getting up early," She shrugged, stirring her cereal. "My roommate gets up early for work, she works at a coffee shop, wakes me up." She sighed, sucking Cheerios off her spoon. "Sunny hates going to work; she's trying to diet and she's around all those donuts all day long." She dropped the spoon back into her bowl. "I hope she finds a boyfriend soon, she'll eat herself to death without someone caring about her." Sunny had put on a lot of 'lonely weight' in a little time; Adanya had inherited a lot of clothing because of it.

An opening. "Sleep all right?" He kept his back to her, pouring himself the coffee she'd so nicely set to perk. Strong too, he liked that. If nothing else, the girl could make coffee.

"Well enough." Adanya looked at her glass of V8 dispassionately, wishing she'd opted for a hot Ovaltine and some more sleep.

"Thought I heard someone," He turned around, almost casually, like he was a concerned parent and she was a teenage girl getting caught sneaking in after curfew. She acted like one too, twisting around in her chair, looking anxious.

"Someone what?" She lifted an eyebrow, watching him watch her.

"Crying," Her eyes went wide, and he continued. "Sniffling, like a scared little girl." He sat down across from her; pushing out the chair she'd put her feet up on. She put them down immediately. "Record player on real low, candle burning, little girl praying." She looked down at her breakfast, a flush of blood burning her face.

"First night in a new place is always bad for me." She kept her eyes down, though a shift of her posture gave away her embarrassment. "I'm not used to sleeping on my own either, Sunny and I shared a bedroom in the apartment." She looked up, miserable. "I'm sorry if the records kept you up, it was just too quiet."

"What's your faith?" Her words, like a fast moving stream, came in Latin and French and Italian, though he doubted she was fluent. Just how she learned to pray.

"Christian by my father, but my mother was Catholic." Unconsciously, she fingered her necklace, touching the tiny crucifix like a talisman. "Most of the families I lived with were Christian; I attended Sunday school and learned all the books."

"What the hell are you eating?" He switched topics before she started crying; tactical advantage as he couldn't stand to see a woman crying.

"Cheerios and V8 juice," She offered him the untouched glass, setting back down with a tiny smile when he made a rude gesture. "Jason and I used to eat this for breakfast every morning," She stirred her cereal again, spooning up milk and letting it splash back down. "Diana would wake us up with hot Ovaltine, and he'd watch the news while I helped cook." A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth, threatening to brighten her somber expression. "We'd sit at the table and he'd read the newspaper while I made small talk." She stared at the table numbly, her eyes focused but unseeing. "We liked to pretend we were a little old married couple, because we had separate beds in the same room, like _I Love Lucy_." She looked back up, almost shyly. "We'd have Tang and bologna for lunch."

"Jason?" James was drawing a blank as he sipped his coffee, letting her talk. The more she let him know, the better his chances of helping her out.

"Jason Stryker was my best friend," She replied quietly, in a secretive tone. "He was my whole little world, my villain and my hero in the same game." She dropped her spoon; pulling her legs up and wrapping her arms around them, chin on her knees. "We'd dream up these elaborate castles and playgrounds and battlefields, and just play all day. My favorite was Princess in a tower, 'cause I got to be rescued. His was War, because I was the nurse that made all his wounds go away." She spared him a quick glance. "We knew we were special early on, because we could do things everyone else couldn't. We were special people in our world; nobody could take that away from us. We had a whole summer together,"

"Stryker? Stryker has a son?" They'd never heard so much as a peep about any sort of child, or family. Stryker wasn't exactly what you'd call a people person, but it seemed odd that he'd never once let on to having a family of his own.

"Then Daddy came back in August, just when we were about to start school, and took me with him. We went to Ireland and Germany and London, and I sent Jason all sorts of letters and presents and whatever I could mail, but he never forgave his parents for letting me leave." Her voice shook a little, taking on a childish timbre. "He drove them crazy all the time, punishing them for taking away his sunny girly."

"Sunny girly, huh?" He could see how the name might fit to a kid, spending all day with a bright, warm, bubbly girl like Adanya. When she wasn't trying to be tough and ballsy, she was actually quite sweet.

"He killed his mother." She looked so guilty, like it was her fault. "He made her so scared, she took a drill to her head." Her eyes widened for emphasis. "Daddy took me back to the house, to surprise him with a china pig I'd gotten. Stryker wasn't home, but we heard voices. He made me walk behind him, he _always_ put himself in front of me if he thought I might get hurt, and we walked back to the kitchen. Jason was sitting on the floor in the sunroom, our playroom, with all the green plants and the big glass windows. It was the best room in the house, it was real close to the backyard, we could sit in there while it rained and feel like we were still outside." She nodded, her voice lilting and sweet like a little girl. "But Diana wasn't there, and it wasn't like her to just leave him alone, without a radio or a television on for sound. She didn't like the quiet, it's why she was always with us." She blinked, her eyes taking on a glittery, slick cast. "There was cake burning in the oven, and I went to take it out for her," Her lower lip began to tremble. "Daddy yelled at me, but I went anyway."

"Adanya," Her breathing was becoming shallow, almost erratic.

"She was lying on the floor in the kitchen," Adanya stage whispered, holding herself tighter. "There was so much blood, everywhere." She turned a sickening shade of white, her hands fluttering to encompass the room. "All over everything," Restlessly, her right hand lifted up to her head, as though she held a drill. "When she was...when she was drilling, her arm spasmed and she went down…_through her face_." Both of her hands came to cover her face. "Oh my God,"

"Hey," The last thing he wanted was for her to start up the waterworks; Victor would haul his ass out of bed and drive her to her own breaking point, and something nasty told him she'd do more damage than a power drill could dream of. There was abso-fucking-lutely no crying in the military.

"She was so pretty," Adanya sniffled from behind her hands. "She was pretty and nice and sweet and kind," She emerged, her eyes red. "And Jason never said _why_." Her voice cracked a little. "He never told me why, he just came into the kitchen and dragged me back to the sunroom to play." She almost laughed, her eyes wide and wet and almost wild. "Like everything was fine."

"You ain't gonna make it here," He thought of Wade, of Stryker pushing her his way. He couldn't let that happen to her. "Not a chance in heaven or hell, punkin'."

"You ever read that book, The Three Faces of Eve?" She seemed to come back to herself, wiping her eyes with the backs of her hands. "Sometimes I feel like her, you know, having three people inside of me. There's Adanya the soldier, the strange little girl who grew up around soldiers and military men, who likes shooting guns and running drill. Then there's Adanya the young lady, the girl who knits and crochets and cooks and cleans and likes being a pretty, feminine house-frau. And finally, there's just Adanya. Just me." She dropped her legs off the chair, studying her palms. "Just plain old Adanya."

"I can help you get out of here," He kept his hand on her arm, his voice low and insistent. "You can go home, they won't find you."

"Morning sexy," Wade sauntered into the kitchenette, clad in a pair of sweat pants and a smile. "You too, Anya."

* * *

"A mission?" Adanya had barely gotten a load of laundry together. "Already?" She looked a little breathless.

"Recon," Stryker confirmed. "Nothing to worry about, it's very simple." He didn't mean to use her for anything other than looking pretty and possibly pinpointing a body. "If all goes as planned, we'll be back tonight."

"Nothing is simple with you," She argued, leaning against the doorframe. "I learned that a long time ago."

"You won't have much to do this time around," Stryker reassured her, smoothing his palm over her curly hair gently, damn near lovingly. "Bring a change of clothes."

"But it's basic reconnaissance," She tilted her head and stared at him. "Why would I need to change my clothes?"

"Just bring the clothes, Adanya." Curtly, he turned on his heel and walked away, leaving her with the command.

"Okay," She disappeared back into her room, digging through her things. She didn't have anymore clean jeans, and she wasn't about to wear a dress, not knowing what was going on or where she was headed. She sat on her bed with a sigh; it was difficult being raised by old ladies, she had no sense of what it was like to be an average teenage hussy, just a teenage _lady_. She was already dressed in the dirty bell-bottoms from yesterday, with a long sleeve shirt and the thick leather boots she had to get used to.

Absently, she rubbed her palms over her shirt, hoping to quell the itch playing over her ribs. Her camisole cut down on the irritation rash and the chafing, but her ribs still ached. Nothing short of a miracle would help that, or the welts she was getting, but it was her own choice. Nobody else made her do it.

Adanya sighed again, pawing through her drawers. She didn't have any halter-tops, or Mod dresses or platform shoes, if this was any indication of what was coming, she was almost just as happy to not have them. Somehow, bouncing around in a halter-top or tube dress just didn't sound like a safe plan, or something her father would approve of. That, and it was pretty hard to hide bandages under a halter-top. Halter-tops were made to show off, not to cover up.

She sighed and grabbed a pink and white sweater set with the matching skirt and stockings, and the matching shoes. _Might as well match_, Adanya shrugged, folding her clothing carefully. Almost as an afterthought, she tucked a roll of bandages into each of her shoes, strictly for the sake of precaution. Dukes had been studying her; he'd notice if she suddenly looked flatter than flat, but on the other hand, he'd be just as likely to notice a little extra jiggle. She flopped back on her bed, staring up at Jim Morrison.

Delicious as always.

Adanya rolled over onto her stomach, groping under the bed for her stash of candy, poking around the shoebox. Her nose twitched, an absent habit she'd been told was adorable, until she found a yellow box that was ever so familiar.

_Lemonheads. _She'd never gotten around to buying a box of their new flavor; sucked a tart, sweet little candy into her mouth and thought of Sunny, wondered if she'd found the note, or the money, or if she'd even made it home that night. Sunny was too good for her own good, too trusting. She'd trusted the wrong guy too often, and found herself in the same dark place as Adanya on the same cold night, waiting for her turn. Adanya was prone to fits of recklessness and temper, she ran away and turned up later in the oddest places; they met on a subway station bench, waiting for the man in the dark glasses to emerge with Adanya's cocaine. Sunny was there for an abortion. They'd walked home to Sunny's apartment together, Adanya had cleaned her up and made lemon tea; she'd completely forgotten about her coke. By the next morning, she'd called her Dad to announce she'd found a roomie and was starting college.

A knock at the door broke her concentration. "Adanya, you ready?"

"Coming," She tucked the box into her pocket, scooping up her bag. She'd make a phone call later, make sure Sunny was okay.

* * *

The plane, the first she'd ever ridden in of its kind, was cramped, sweaty, stinky, and gross. She could smell body odor, blood, sweat, something manky that left a mineral taste in her mouth. Nothing looked sanitary; she really didn't want to sit on the bench, or sit so close to Wraith. She had nothing against him personally; it was just odd as snow in July for her to be sitting next to a Negro of all people, when they'd just barely started integrating schools. He wasn't a nasty man, from what she'd seen of him, but the color of his skin just threw her off. It was just how she'd been raised.

"Anya," Wade threw a _SweeTart_ at her head. "I didn't see you last night, what gives?"

"Adanya," She threw it back, followed by a _Lemonhead_. She liked to suck on them during quiet moments; on the bus, on a train, in the car, on the way to steal information…She popped a couple more in her mouth, the sugary sweetness overcoming the bitter tang of her thoughts.

"So Anya," Wade continued conversationally, plucking the _Lemonhead_ off his lap and popping it in his mouth. "What are we doing tonight? Your bed or mine?"

"My name is Adanya." She sounded it out. "Ah-dawn-yah. A-D-A-N-Y-A." She spelled it slowly, as she had in school for her teachers. "Adanya,"

"Okay, Anya," Wade shrugged like she was being picky. "Whatever you want, babe." He leaned back, pushing his pelvis out. "I can take it,"

"Whatever." She turned her attention to James, leaning over his knees, looking green. "Is he gonna be okay?"

"You need a bucket yet, Nancy?" Zero sniggered, absently disassembling and reassembling one of his guns. Adanya had been watching him earlier; he had it down to a science, not even watching his hands.

"Fuck- urgh," He dropped his head back between his knees, his breathing tight and constricted.

"You ever tried ginger ale?" Adanya leaned down to talk to him, a cool hand on the back of his neck. "Or soda crackers? Hard candy helps, sometimes." She'd acquired a cast-iron stomach a long while back when it came to flying. "They used to give me ginger ale and peppermints."

"I'll keep that in mind," He grunted, pressing his forehead to his hands again, breathing deep and slow. As quickly as the nausea came, the sensation passed slowly, the cool fingers at the back of his neck stroking over his skin in slow circles, her nails tickling.

"Better?" Her full lips quirked into a smile, he felt an urge to touch her, to feel how soft her mouth was. He sat up; she was still smiling at him. He quashed the thought as quickly as it came; she was a kid, she was out of his league, and she was trying her hardest to fit in around a bunch of men. Last thing she needed was everyone making a play for her bed.

"What do you do?" Wraith nudged her foot with his own, earning himself a teasing smile. She'd switched from her blue Keds into regulation boots, but somehow they lost their military toughness, peeking out from her bell-bottoms. Stryker still had to find her a uniform, something more substantial than her regular clothes and a borrowed jacket.

"What do you do?" Adanya countered, leaning forward over her knees when the plane lurched violently. The only constants were a low stream of cursing, the clink of a sword being sharpened, and the smell of sweat and body odor. "Other than look cool." She reached over and tapped his hat.

"I asked you first," John smirked, watching Jimmy from the corner of his eye, pale and sweaty, taking deep breaths from between his knees.

"I asked you second." Adanya smirked in kind, giving the other man a look. "You gonna be okay?" She actually looked sympathetic. "Your healing factor fights me, I can't make it last as long."

"Can it, kid." He ducked his head lower, his forehead almost touching the floor. Creed snarled at her, still sore over being forked in the eye and not being able to do anything to her. Stryker made it perfectly clear, in no uncertain terms; if so much as a hair was out of place on Adanya's head, the perp would spend the rest of his natural life in an eight by three cell. For Victor, that was a really long time.

"Touchy, touchy." Adanya smiled, looking back at Wraith. "Well?"

"Teleporter." He grinned at her. "I'd show you, but we're in the plane."

She nodded. "I'm psychometric; a tracking filter. You know how you switch stations on a radio? _Static_, music, _static_, music, until you find the right song? That's what I do. I can lock onto a signal, any sort of signal from a mind, and filter through all the static and find that person. If I try hard enough, I can lock them into place, or have someone find me." She looked faintly proud. "It has to have a signal that I can sense. People come in different colors, different sounds, different flavors, it's just a matter of sifting through it all."

"Like a mind reader?" Bradley looked up for the first time in ten minutes, looking at her curiously.

"Not really." She balked at the carnival term. "It's more like following a beacon, or playing a really cool game of Marco Polo." She pretended not to see Wade studying her, his hand hovering over the handle of his sword. "I also have some biokinetic skill."

"How'd you learn?" North stared at her from up front, his seat beside Stryker. "They don't teach that shit in basic." He thought a moment. "Might use you for it though, be damn useful in combat to have you as a nurse." He'd only met two bios in his life, and both of them had taken up jobs as military doctors.

"Trial and error," The charming, docile girl was making an appearance in the gentle shrug of her shoulders, the honesty. "Mostly when I was a younger, looking through my movie magazines, I always wanted to look different." She shrugged again, her maroon eyes bright. "Blonde one day, black the next, killer eyesight for watching stars, being _ever _so vulnerable to chills when I was on a date, not feeling anything during basic, being the only one to stay up through the four-day slog of sleep deprivation." She shrugged again. "It's dead useful, but it gives me a headache to use it too long, or using it too much."

"What's biokinetic?" Fred's thick Texas drawl butchered the word sloppily; _by-er-con-extic_.

"Biokinesis is the practice of using kinetic force to manipulate, rearrange, or alter the genes of the body." Her tone was nasal and bored; she'd said it too many times. "Genetic reprogramming, make you better, stronger, faster, make everything better than best." She looked down at her hands, almost coyly. "Or I could ruin you from the ground up."

"Nice." Wade caught her eye again, light glimmering off his sword. "So do me," He slid it into the sheath in a fluid motion, his cocky smirk noting that her eyes had never shifted from his arm as he did so. She let her gaze linger on the smooth planes of skin, muscle rippling just beneath the surface when he moved.

Adanya came back to reality when John elbowed her. "Beg pardon?" She looked at him, surprised.

Wade laughed. "Change something in me." It wasn't quite a challenge or a dare, not like how Victor gazed at her, but more of a tease. _The boy could charm a snake of its rattle_, Adanya mused, smiling back a bit more wickedly. _And then use it to bash in the snake's dumb head_.

"Like what?" She asked gently, flashing him a coquettish look. "You look fine from here," She let her gaze linger on the corded, tanned length of his arms, the boyish charm of his face.

"Anya, you're making me blush," Mockingly, he put a hand to his cheek, turning away from her. "Stop it,"

"My name's not _Anya_," She fought to keep exasperation from her tone. "It's Adanya, not _Anya_. I'm not a Bond girl."

"It is now," He countered. "You are my Anya."

"Okay, _Pookie_." She glanced up from her lashes, seeing how he'd react.

If anything, the grin broadened. "Baby cakes,"

"Snuggle bunny," She giggled, recalling the look on an ex-boyfriend's face when she'd christened him as such.

"Honey bun," The names seemed to be getting more saccharine with each go; even Bradley made a face at that one.

"Oh, _Aww-chee_!" She gave a dead-on Edith Bunker, the whole of the plane exploded into laughter, even from Stryker and Zero. Adanya turned her head in time to see Victor's mouth twitch, just a little, like he might smile, before his face settled back into that almost bored, feral-esque expression.

Wade grinned at her; he'd never pegged her for a television junkie. "Okay, Hot Lips,"

"I can't come back from that, he's going _M*A*S*H_ on me," She looked around for support, heartened to see Bradley smiling a little, like it was all a cute joke.

"Christ, he wasn't kidding, was he?" James turned his head; Victor was caught between disgusted and annoyed. "She and Wade are like fucking kids,"

Adanya blinked at him innocently. "But we're not fucking," That look of innocence should be illegal, or they had to get a stricter set of rules for hiring kids with baby faces to be mercs. The word _fucking_ sounded almost ridiculous coming from her lips, as did any curse she uttered.

Wade reached over and patted her knee. "Not yet anyway," He grinned wickedly, bursting into gales of laughter when Adanya blushed ruby and ducked her head.

* * *

The plane landed a few yards away from a huge facility that dealt with chemical processing. Alongside the factory was a smaller building, the offices. Apparently, there was a man upstairs in that building that had information on processing something called adamantium. Apparently, it was worth killing for as well, Adanya discovered, watching everyone ready themselves.

Zero had no less than ten guns that she could see, Wade strapped his swords to his back, which she had to admit looked really cool. Wraith and Bradley both carried guns and hunting knives. Dukes didn't have anything but his vest and a pair of torn, fingerless gloves.

"Are you serious!" Adanya howled when Stryker presented her with her protection; a gun, a switchblade, and a flak jacket. "If bringing me into this in the first place wasn't a joke, this is." She handed it back to him. "I'm not wearing that. It's outdated and useless, everyone knows that."

"Put it on," He kept his voice level. "And meet us outside the plane."

Adanya crossed her arms under her breasts, glaring at him. "I'm not putting that on."

"Adanya," He spoke very slowly, approaching her with a quiet power that radiated like cold, seeping into every inch of the plane. "Put on the jacket like a good girl, or you will be punished like a bad girl." Instantly, her arms dropped to her sides. "Put on the jacket, meet us outside, and be ready to perform." Stryker put the jacket in her arms, turning away before her expression could affect his cold demeanor.

"Well," Bradley broke the silence, forcing everyone to look at something other than Adanya. "Guess you have to wear the shitty vest, love."

"Yeah," She slipped her arms into it, shrugging it on. "Um, James, you mind helping me make it fit?" She hid her embarrassment well, to be dressed down with so few words.

"We're doing recon, right?" James helped her strap in, adjusting the jacket to fit more snugly around her. What started as a standard size coat ended up as a wraparound, belted at her waist.

"Yep," He adjusted the fit, letting his hands linger a moment too long on her sides. She was wrapped up pretty tight, but he wasn't clear as to why. The jacket itself fit her like a pup tent, designed for someone broader. "This is a joke, punkin', I'm sorry you have to wear it." He'd decided to call her punkin' instead of Adanya, as it was more casual and at least gave her the semblance of belonging. If nothing else, it made her feel more at ease, he'd seen that right away; their private joke.

"So what's with the firepower? Why not go in neat and clean?" Adanya tugged the band from her hair, fidgeting. "It's so much simpler."

"Not how we work," Bradley offered, following North out of the plane. Both of them wore their uniforms, Bradley was gallantly not laughing at her wraparound flak jacket fiasco.

"Apparently." She swept her hair back again, tightening the ponytail. "Why bother being sneaky? They're men, it's not fun unless there's blood and bombs." She snarked to herself, following James out, Wade just behind her.

"Aw baby, you're singing our song." He picked her up from behind, swinging her around. "_Blood and bombs and explosions_…" He let her go, twirling her around. "_Stabbing, shooting, death penalties_!"

"Shut up, Wade." She laughed all the same, watching him dance around their assembled team, hip-checking Victor.

"_Guns and bullets and hand grenades_," Wade broke into a loud, lusty chorus. "_Corp-ses in the hall-ways, dis-em-boweled bodies all of our days_!" He flung his arms wide "Jazz hands!"

"Adanya," Stryker cuffed the back of her head to stop her giggles. It was bad enough Wade thought he was funny; he didn't need encouragement. "What you came for," He indicated the building before them, about twenty feet from where she stood.

She nodded, becoming serious. "Top floor," She touched her temple curiously. "Sixteen men inside with him, four on the elevator, six in the hall," Their colors all ran along the same muddy green wash. "Two in the john, and forty waiting on the first floor." She looked around the empty stillness just beyond the chain-link fence. "Twenty three to greet us." She pointed at the empty courtyard. "It's so jumbled, they keep moving." She shook her head, forcing the colors to stay still. Inside the building, the men froze as though they'd stepped on pads of super glue.

"Between?" Stryker prompted gently, watching her eyes. Their lovely maroon color never shifted, but when her powers were engaged, they became slightly harder looking, almost like crystal. Jason's eyes never changed like that.

"Ten on each floor, six for the staircases," She peered up at the building, counting colors and reading signals. "Three stairwells in front, sir, four in back." The sharp crystalline look was back; her eyes narrowed slightly and her hands twitched.

"Adanya," Stryker wanted her to single out the man on the top floor, have him come out the window to find her.

"Shh," She waved him away, narrowing her eyes to slits. "I can't concentrate when you're blocking me."

"Soldier!" Behind them, Zero snickered.

She relaxed. "We're clear for the first three," She looked at him coolly. "They just spontaneously dropped off, but our friends in the courtyard are still waiting."

"Good girl," He clapped a hand on her shoulder. "Zero," He trusted her to find someone, but not dispatching them. He'd keep her near until he felt like showing her off.

"Stand back, girlie," Zero strutted forward, guns at the ready. "See how the big boys play."

Adanya smirked in kind. "Can't wait." She folded her arms over her flak-jacketed chest, shifting her weight to one foot and assuming her best "God, I am so bored" stance. Behind her, she heard a slow wolf whistle.

"Damn baby, you make that jacket look good."

"Wilson!"

* * *

Adanya was as good as her word. Every prediction, every estimate, every number she offered up was dead on. Stryker held her back, as he'd done with Wade, while the others tore it up. She walked with him after the initial takedown; leading him to the men he wanted, each victory earning her a pat on the head. Annoying as it was, she couldn't help but be proud of her achievements, of the fact she was earning her place on his team. She and Zero flanked Stryker at the door of the top floor office, while the others cleared Stryker a path.

"Told you he was here," Adanya demurred, stepping into the room, solemnly ignoring the ruby wash on the walls. A small, secret smile came to her lips. "I did good, huh?"

"Yes Adanya, you did good." Stryker allowed himself to be charmed by her again, almost dismayed that there wasn't a Tootsie Roll pop in his pocket for her trouble. Malcolm had always carried sweets for the children.

"You're pretty when you smile," Fred commented, his thick drawl sending shivers down her spine. He dropped the man he'd been holding in a headlock, kicked him aside nonchalantly.

"Thank you," Adanya turned back to Stryker, who looked expectant. "He's behind the desk." She followed him, as she'd been instructed, always a few steps behind, down the center aisle of the office to the desk. A portly, piggy, pink-skinned man in a suit cowered in his chair, looking up at them owlishly. He couldn't stand more than five feet, six inches; his belly preceded him in a gentle, well-fed slope over the front of his pants

"You have something that I want," Stryker leaned over the desk, watching the fat man cower in his chair. "You have the information about the metal called adamantium,"

"We burned it." He looked pink and pathetic in his chair, like a pig. "We tore it all up and burned it, to hell with that stuff." His pudgy hands scrabbled for a bottle of pills. "To hell with you." He swallowed a couple dry. "Take your Chink and take your whore and get out before the police show up!"

"Chinks are Chinese, I'm Korean." North very casually took a gun from his pocket, firing a round beside the man's head lazily. "If you attempt to insult me, at least get it right."

"The information." Stryker repeated, his hands flat on the desk, leaning forward menacingly. Behind him, Victor grinned wildly, his nails lengthening.

"It's gone," The fat man scrabbled about his desk, panicky and short of breaths. "Get out of here, leave me alone and I won't give out any names."

"Liar," Adanya watched his eyes, flicking about the room erratically for someone or something to protect him, but they always seemed to peer upward for a moment, before he'd look around again.

"Adanya?" Stryker never took his eyes off the stressed, portly man.

"It's above his desk," She tipped her head back and looked up. "Somewhere in the ceiling."

"Oh, she's _telepathic_ too?" Zero crowed, glaring at Adanya. "What can't you do, princess?"

"Shut you up, for one." She chirped back sweetly. "But we can work on that after you master using the potty like a big boy!" The bright, mocking smirk on her face was the perfect counterpart to the thunder on Zero's, his hands twitching at his sides.

Dukes and Bradley slapped hands to their mouths, trying their damnedest to smother their laughter, out of sheer respect for their teammate. Victor was chuckling under his breath, standing near James, not bothering to hide it. Wade had fallen over a table, laughing, holding his sides. Adanya giggled, smiling proudly at her achievement. Slowly, she was getting used to this.

"Why didn't we get her sooner?" Wade wiped a tear off his cheek, sucking in his breath heavily. "She's perfect!"

"Aw, Wade," She looked over her shoulder at him, delighted.

"That's quite enough," Stryker jerked on the end of her ponytail. "We are on a schedule, young lady." In front of them, the fat man looked incredulous. It was all like a badly written sitcom farce. _Father Knows Brats_, or some crazy shit like that, _All in the Nuthouse_.

"Ow!" She slapped his hand away, not giving a rat's rear about respect. "Well it makes sense, he keeps looking up there."

Stryker looked at her almost pityingly. "Take the floor, then." He pushed her forward gently, condescendingly. "Show us all that fabulous woman's intuition of yours," There was no mistaking the sarcasm to his voice, the challenge.

Adanya flashed him a saucy look, sauntering away toward an over-turned chair. She picked it up and dragged it back, idly singing under her breath. "_Never dreamed anybody could kiss that way, bring me bliss that way, with a kiss that way_," She swung the chair up on the fat man's desk, climbing up after it.

"_There's a cute little cottage for two that way, skies are blue that way, dreams come true that way,"_

In a swift, graceful motion she stood up on the chair, her head level with the pipes that ran across the ceiling like amaze, weaving and interconnecting. It wasn't very good work either, there was damn near a half-foot of space between pipe and ceiling. "_If you say I can share it with you that way, I'll be happy the rest of my life,_" She turned around in a circle, looking for a crack or ledge that might give her an idea where he'd stashed his binder. _"Oh, hot diggity, dot diggity, what you do to me, it's so new to me,"_

"You lost, princess?" Zero called, keeping a couple of men in security uniforms at bay. "We ain't got all night."

"Blow it out your ear, Junior, the professionals are working." She reached up and took hold of the cool, slick pipes, relaxing her body and stepping off the chair; glad to see they could support her weight.

"Adanya," There was a note of warning in Stryker's voice; he'd put up with enough of Wade showing off, he wasn't about to take it from her. "That's enough, young lady."

"Okay," She swung her legs up and wrapped them around the pipe, arching her neck to look down at him. "Be right there." Hand over hand; she began to crawl along the pipe, her ponytail swinging below her.

"Limber minx, ain't she?" Wraith couldn't help but smile to see her climb along the pipe, like she was back in basic training. She moved along like an upside-down jungle cat, looking for anything to confirm her suspicions.

"Found it!" A hole had been carved into the ceiling, like a loft. Carefully, she let go of the slick pipe, reaching for the smooth edge of the hole, wrapping her fingers around a support beam. It was a weird, stretchy sensation, her legs still around the pipe with both hands grasping the open compartment. Willing her hands to be stronger than the rest of her as she let go of the pipes completely, hanging from the lip of the little cubby.

"Well that was impressive," Zero quipped, shaking his head. "I could have done that with a ladder."

Adanya growled under her breath, pressing her luck as she hefted herself up and in on upper body strength alone. It was a tight fit, though she managed to squirm enough to pull her head and arms inside, leaving her legs to dangle ridiculously. She wriggled, sucking in her stomach and fighting gravity, forcing more of herself into the cubby. It was ridiculously dusty, full of cobwebs, but near the back she saw a thick brown binder.

"You havin' fun, babe?" Wade stood below, laughing at her. "Great view from here," She was kicking uselessly, trying to find some sort of leverage, something to give her a boost.

"Better than Oreo cookies," She called back cheerfully, squeezing herself further into the narrow gap, ignoring the dust and scurrying mice. She wriggled like a snake, flailing her arm to try and reach the binder. Man had a damn dossier; everything his company had done, on fucking paper. How stupid could you be? She reached again, feeling muscles pull, and grappled with the edge of the binder, sucking in her stomach and praying she didn't fall. That would be cute; to fall at their feet, or worse, land on a desk and impale herself on something sharp. Biokinetic or not, it was a poor excuse for a healing factor.

Her fingers snagged the edge of the binder, wrapping around a corner and dragging it toward the light. It was thick, about the size of a Michigan phone book. Carefully, Adanya lowered herself out of the cubby, her arms tired. The pipes felt cooler than before, and slick, almost icy when her ankle brushed the metal. Painstakingly slowly, she hooked a knee over the pipe, holding herself in place with one hand on the support beam. A moment later, she swung free, the binder in her hands; a shock of panic rippling through her until her other knee was secured over the pipe, a muscle in her thigh twinging.

"Got it." She announced unnecessarily, hanging from a pipe by her knees, swinging back and forth gently. She held the book to her chest, inhaling fresh air slowly. Felt so good to breathe, it'd feel even better once they were back to base and she could take a shower.

"Give that to me," Stryker came forward, still within Zero's range of protection, hands held out for the book. Agreeably, she dropped it into his hands, allowing herself to hang a couple moments longer. Her ribs ached, her chest felt tight and hot under the layers of fabric. She arched her neck and looked back; the chair wasn't on the desk anymore, Dukes was using it to bash some thick-necked, wrester-looking guy into submission. She reached back up, shimmying backwards until she was back where she started. She unhooked her legs, letting herself dangle a moment while she took a breath. Worst part was the moment before she let go. The sensation of dropping, even a few feet onto a desk, was enough to pucker her skin with goosebumps, a cold sweat starting under her arms.

"Don't worry, babe, I'll catch you." Wade teased, from someplace below her.

She landed lightly, with her eyes closed, in a crouch. She opened her eyes and stared at the fat little man cowering in his office chair, the fat little man who took trips overseas for sex with kinky women and prostitutes, while his wife waited up for him every night. The fat little man did not deserve her loyalty.

"I don't like you, little man." She stood up to her full height, stepping to the edge of the desk. "You're a nasty little pervert, and I do not like you," Her stance shifted, as though she was going to kick him in the face. "Did you hear me?" She leaned forward, bending her knees slightly. "Did you, nasty little man?"

In a quick motion, the fat man swept her feet out from under her. Adanya fell on the desk heavily, landing on her back, all the breath _whooshing_ out of her lungs at once. Her head cracked against the edge, stars danced before her eyes, and her back arched up painfully, as the fat man rose to his feet and stood over her possessively. Both hands went to her head, trying to massage away the ripples of pain exuding from the base of her skull.

"Jesus," She whimpered pathetically, sinking her hands into her hair, trying to pinpoint the pain that was everywhere.

"Give me that, or the girl dies." The fat man shouted, as though Stryker was listening. "I'll rip her apart!" He shouted again, making Adanya wince. He stared at Stryker, at the other men, disbelief written plainly on his face. Nobody moved to help her; she lay on the desk apathetic; none of them were worried.

"Stop screaming," She looked up at him, dizzy and nauseated. "You make my head hurt." She dropped her head back to the desk, seemingly uncaring that he stood between her splayed legs.

"Shut up," He pulled a switchblade knife from the open desk drawer, holding it to her throat. "The only sound I want to hear from you is a scream." The other hand dropped to his belt, whipping it away quickly. Either because of his weight or the excitement, he was panting heavily.

"You don't wanna do that, mister," Adanya levered herself up on her elbows, watching him. "That's a really dumb thing to do." She pushed the blade away with her fingertips. "You don't wanna do it." He didn't move to put the knife back, thinking her willing.

He leaned in, standing over her. "Why not, pretty little girl?"

"Cause of this," In a flash, she snapped her legs together, his head trapped between her booted ankles. With a quick, jerking twist, she snapped his neck. He fell to the floor between her feet, as she picked herself up, sitting back on the desk warily. Stupid of her to not think he'd go for an easy target like that; what better way to put a woman in her place than to humiliate her? Poor sap never had a chance.

"Adanya?" Stryker inquired, never looking up from his file.

"That was hot." Wade looked at her admiringly.

"Thanks for the help, guys, you've saved my virginity." She sat up, rubbing the back of her head. "Damn, that hurts." She drew her hand away from her skull, her fingers red. "Ugh," She closed her eyes, looking away quickly. A shiver ran through her, not going unnoticed.

"You don't like blood, frail?" Victor shook a dead body at her, drops of the man's blood spattering her cheek. She winced. "Whassamatter, you don't like it?"

"You're disgusting." She hopped off the desk, wiping her cheek on the back of her hand. "Not tonight, Victor, I have a headache." She ran a hand over her hair again, feeling blood oozing down her neck. "I need a medic, I'm dripping."

"Good work, team." Stryker snapped the file closed and favored them with a short, toad-like smile. "Regroup, we'll rendezvous in ten."

Adanya felt tingling prickle near her ears. "It's not over," She muttered, looking for the source of light. A couple dozen, all mucky green. But it was impossible; they'd cleared the stairwells and sealed off the doors. The signals she was picking up came from the walls. She turned her head; James and Victor felt it too.

"They're coming," She repeated dully, as though anyone was listening. "It's not over."

"What?" Wade turned around to look at her. "Anya?"

"They're coming!" She yelled, looking at the colors flickering around the walls. "Three," Color flashed brighter in her eyes, she was vaguely aware of Zero hustling Stryker out of the area, back toward the elevator. "Two." Instinctively, she went deaf and numb; eyes hard as diamonds as her skin toughened to the texture of steel. One advantage to all her practice, it took a mere thought to change something inside of her.

She didn't hit one. A dozen bodies burst into the room before anyone could think, springing from the walls like ninja zombies.

* * *

The room erupted into a sort of controlled chaos. The men coming out of the walls were armed with knives, but it didn't feel tense. The men leapt into it gleefully, she could hear Wade laughing his head off, and Victor growling. Wraith teleported from body to body, slitting throats as best he could as they fought back, playing as dirty as anyone else, aiming for vulnerable flesh. Adanya stopped a couple hearts, narrowing her eyes and zooming in on their blood, thickening the flow to an almost jelly-like consistency. It was trickier, as the free-for-all went on around her, she couldn't concentrate as well as she liked. Thinking wasn't really involved with this, she realized, sinking a knife into a man's chest. She threw him aside, jamming her stolen blade into another man's lower back, wrenching him away from Bradley, reaching to retrieve her knife when something solid collided with her, grabbing her wrists hard and ripping her away.

"Fred, no!" She felt her feet leave the ground as his hands crushed her arms, heaving her across the room like nothing more than a toy. She hit a desk hard, clipping her shoulder on the corner, landing on the floor with a grunt. The big man shouted an apology as Wade yelled at him, the impact of the desk knocking Adanya back into normalcy for a moment, gunfire thundering in her ears. The pain along her shoulder blade was like fire, searing along her spine and sizzling her nerves. Under the layers of cloth, she felt her skin split open, a little spring of blood welling up around the thick black center of a bruise. She willed her skin to toughen again, but couldn't manage to go deaf.

"You killed her, fat-ass!" Wade was shouting, barely audible over the din. "She's on _our _side!"

She stood up shakily; trying to call out, tell them she was okay. The fight went on without her, her stomach flipping and heaving when she saw Victor rip out a man's throat with his teeth. She leaned on the desk weakly, bowing her head, a hand stealing up to touch her cross. Only a couple of the rogue assailants stood against the six mercenaries, and they fought hard to the end.

"Anya, look out!" Her head jerked up in time to see something huge and heavy flying toward her. They collided, the weight of what she figured was a body knocking her back into the wall, her head snapping painfully against it, the huge man-thing suffocating her, a flurry of death spasms and short breaths.

The world swirled dark, the scent of blood filling her nose as she slipped into the inky abyss, something heavy and wet and cold lying on her chest.

* * *

A haze of red smeared her vision when she awoke. She was lying on her back; a half-wit, rent-a-body Fred had knocked aside collided with her and took them both into the wall. A faint ooze of blood seeped through her clothes when she released, letting her skin morph back to normal. She could hear properly again; the gunfire gone quiet, panting breath and cursing, harsh words and stray rounds from someone's gun as he finished off what few remained. She shoved the body off her, wrinkling her nose at the trail of gore it left along her body, and clambered to her feet weakly. The smells of blood and gunpowder were churning her gut; she wiped at a trickle of blood from her nose and tried to ignore the fire in her shoulder. She knew she'd feel it much more acutely once she calmed down. Wade was wiping his swords clean on a dead man's shirt; Fred was kicking people aside to reach Bradley, hauling the little man up roughly. Wraith had turned away from the carnage, looking as sick as Adanya felt. Victor, her stomach gave an unpleasant, squelchy lurch, was licking his fingers clean, leaning over a corpse draped on a table.

James laid a steady hand on her arm, helping her climb over the bodies heaped on the floor. "No crying," His voice was as steady as his hand, trying to buoy her.

"What?" Shock was dripping away like icicles in the spring air, a slow drip that would eventually fade into nothing. Some icicles were thicker, but it would all melt eventually.

"No crying." He repeated calmly, in a quiet tone meant for her ears only.

"I'm not crying," She didn't feel like she was crying, but she raised a bloody hand to her cheek anyhow.

"Future reference, punkin'." His dark eyes were serious. "No crying."

"Okay," She nodded weakly, wiping her bloody cheek with her fingertips.

"Ain't exactly singin' in a strip club, is it?" Victor sauntered over lazily, dragging a corpse with him. Like he was offering a toy, he threw it at her feet. "You still feel like being a big girl, honey? Wanna run home to Daddy yet?"

Adanya's lip curled. "Sit on it," She kicked the body off her boots, ten kinds of glad that it rolled over on its stomach, the sightless face turned away from her. At the very least, the face was whole.

Victor tapped his cheek with a talon. "Gotta little spot there, sweet face."

She swiped at her face furiously, trying to get rid of as much of the sticky stuff as she could. It was everywhere; the whole room was coated. They were all dressed in red, soaking through to the skin, not an inch of her dry. She rubbed her hands on her pants, up her arms, scraping her nails over her throat, up her cheeks, clawing at her flesh. A choked, strangled sound of misery escaped her throat as she worked, trying her absolute damnedest to get rid of it all, ripping at her clothes as the howl came fresh, clearer and louder, her nails opening new cuts along her flesh to add her own blood to what soaked her.

There was _too much fucking blood_!

They stared at her for a moment, backed into a corner and clawing at herself. If they gave her a couple minutes, she'd start screaming, probly eat her own gun. Quick and messy, but they'd be done with her. No more girl to worry about. A scream built up in her throat as her clawing, scrabbling hands became more frantic, nails catching in her clothes, impatience and fear fueling hysteria.

"Anya!" Wade caught her wrists, shaking her. "Calm down!" He shook her again, watching her head snap. "It's just a little blood, calm the fuck down!" Strangled, bestial screams kept emerging from her throat, she thrashed and fought to free herself, clawing at his arms as best she could.

She fought him until he let go, grabbing her upper arms. "Anya!" He shook her again, seeing nothing other than eyes like maroon slits in a bloody face, and fingernails intent on savaging. He jerked her back hard, like he was going to shake her again, but instead swung his arm back and let her have it with a sharp slap across the face. She fell like a rag doll, hard on her hands, silent and still once more.

"Anya?" He looked down at her, wondering if he'd done more harm than good. He'd never actually raised his hand to a girl before.

"My name's not Anya," Her squeaky voice cracked, she looked up at him from fallen strands of hair. A whimpery moan escaped her. "My name's not Anya," She pressed a palm to her face, feeling her cheek carefully, reassuring herself that her face was whole and firm and hers.

Wade looked down at her, bloody and vulnerable and adorably pathetic. "Don't you do that again." He leaned over, wrapping a hand around her arm and hoisting her up. "No more of that, Anya, no more fucking hysterics." Gently, he brushed a thumb over a fresh cut on her cheek, smearing away the blood there. "We haven't even had a play date yet, it's too soon for you to go home."

A weak, watery chuckle passed her lips. Above all else, he could still find a way to joke. She bit back the urge to lean closer and sink into him, feel those powerful arms around her like a protective shield; just forget the carnage and sink into Wade Wilson the way she sank into a bubble bath. Instead, she nodded and brushed back a lock of her sweaty, bloody hair, hugging her arms over her stomach. Eyes closed, she began to recite prayers in her head, the rich sounding Latin thick in her ears.

"Well," Stryker reappeared in the door, her canvas bag in his hands. "Adanya, how was it?" He looked to her expectantly, watching her maroon eyes open and stare at him hatefully.

"Is it too late to burn my draft card?" Adanya looked at him warily, smearing more blood on her face when she tried to wipe it off with her hands. The whole world was red.

"Just a little." Zero snickered, taking his position beside Stryker. He wasn't near as bloody as the rest of them, though he'd taken down a fair number of bodies on his own. The messiest were Wade, Adanya, and Victor; everyone else was at least a little dry.

His cleanliness turned her stomach. "I don't see any on you," She had half a mind to slap her bloody palm across his face. "Sir." She put all the contempt she could muster into spitting that one word at him.

"Change your clothes, Adanya." He tossed her bag on the floor between them, reminding her of her place as she scooped it up. "And wash your face, it's unbecoming."

* * *

Technically speaking, psychometry (psychometrics) is the ability to hold an object or touch someone and sense the energy surrounding that person, place or thing. Adanya refers to herself as a tracking filter because that's essentially what she does with it. She senses the energy signature, and follows it, or locks that person into place.

Biokinesis, as Adanya explained, is the practice of using kinetic energy to rearrange, or control genes inside of the body. Once mastered, biokinesis can be used to reprogram cells; for example, she reprograms cells in her ears to shut down during the gunfire, thus saving her hearing. She reprogrammed the cells in her eyes to become sharper, her skin to become harder. In chapter one, she used her powers to weaken Victor during the fight. Make more sense now?


	4. Chapter 4

Adanya stumbled out of the bathroom, still dazed. She felt marginally better; warm water and soft soap had cleaned what skin she could reach. She'd peeled off the flak jacket and her shirt, washing all the skin she could reach around the bandages layered around her abdomen, running from armpit to hips, and rinsed some of her hair. The sink had run red for five minutes before the water began to clear; the smaller cuts and bruises beginning to fade into faint lines and spots. A migraine was beginning to form, right behind her eyes, and she hadn't brought anything for it. The warm water was like a balm; soothing over her nerves and working down on the reality of what she'd done.

She hadn't changed her clothes either. _Fuck that and fuck him too_, she thought bitterly, tossing the bag over her good shoulder.

Dukes was waiting for her, looking miserable as could be. "M'sorry I threw you," His big hands were warm, patting her shoulder awkwardly as he reached across and took her bag. "Thought you were trying to get Chris," She fell into step beside him, picking her way over slabs of broken wall, hopping over a busted door. He looked a little ridiculous, carrying her little bag in his great big hands.

She gave him a long, searching look. "So you'll throw me across the room for him, but when a man has me on a desk,"

Dukes shrugged. "Stryker said to let you be,"

"Oh?" She caught his arm, staring at him, her mouth a perfect circle of surprise.

"Guess he wanted you to prove you can hack it," Without warning, his hands enfolded her waist and he lifted her clear of a pile of debris, setting her down easily on the other side with no more effort than lifting a library book.

"Oh," She nodded, her lips pressed together in a thin line. "I see."

"Sorry," He truly did look apologetic, as though she was supposed to know about her 'initiation', or understand that Stryker had only planned on keeping her around for looking pretty and offering up samples for the lab.

"It's okay," A ghost smile flitted over her face. "I know you didn't mean it, because I'm still alive."

Dukes grinned. "You're alright, Danny." Playfully, he slung his arm around her waist and pulled her close enough to kiss. "So you're a virgin, huh?"

"Shh," She pressed a finger to his lips, her short look almost impish. "I don't think they were paying attention."

"Won't be much longer, you stick with us." He let go when Stryker gave them a sharp look, Adanya walking ahead of him, almost flaunting her damp, bloody clothing to Stryker, her little rebellion. He lifted an eyebrow but remained silent.

"I can hardly wait," She walked up the ramp before him, sitting down beside Wraith gingerly. She leaned forward, pulling her shirt down to cover her lower back, her necklace swinging into sight.

"You religious?" Dukes sat across from her, watching her adjust her shirt, never happy with how it sat.

"It was my mother's," She tipped a hand under it, holding the tiny cross up for him to see. "It's one of the few things I have of hers."

"S'nice," He sat back, watching her mime the action. "I ain't been to a church in years."

"Me neither, not since I was fifteen." She sounded utterly proud of herself. Without forced services seven days a week, she'd found courage she'd never known possible. The hell with Maggie and her "Mary-like modesty", Adanya Winters was a free woman.

"How old are you?" Wraith inquired, his voice thick and a little sleepy.

"Eighteen,"

"You're still a baby," Wraith sat back, tipping his hat over his eyes. "Christ on his fuckin' throne, we're takin' off the schoolyard." He settled back against the wall. "Hear that, Zero, she's only eighteen."

"Shoot, I think Wade's twenty-two, twenty-three." Dukes shook his head almost sadly. "Can't even get you drunk yet," He studied her, pretty despite the residual shock, the bruises and scrapes. How was it she was still a virgin, unless she was lying? Hell, it was only nineteen seventy-seven, kids her age were all about sex and drugs and scoring dope; they got stuck with the one girl who kept her knees together and only got down on them to pray.

"Like I'd let you get me drunk," She kicked his shin playfully. "You take off all my clothes and try them on for fun."

"Shh," He pressed a thick finger to his lips. "I think they ain't payin' attention."

Adanya giggled.

* * *

The plane had taken off, a hushed quiet falling over the passengers, aside from Zero lovingly reloading all of his guns and Wade cooing over his blades, smoothing over them with a polishing cloth. Adanya looked around, surprised. Dukes and Wraith seemed to be asleep, Bradley had his head down, Victor was lounging, and Jimmy looked at her searchingly.

"What's up?" She turned to look at him. "You're all bloody." She wrinkled her nose.

"Lean forward, lemme see your head." He took her elbows and pulled her forward over her knees, sweeping aside the damp, bloody mass of her hair. His hands felt gentle on her neck, questing fingers smoothing through the tangled curls. Grunting under his breath, he pulled her forward a bit more, searching for the gash. "Thought you needed a medic."

"It's healed over," Her voice was muffled between his knees. "I was working on it in the bathroom when I cleaned up." He found the tender spot, probing the flesh gently with a fingertip. Girl could have had her own healing factor, if this was any indication of her dexterity. The scratches and scrapes had disappeared from her face and neck before Stryker even saw them.

"What about your shoulder?" Without warning, he peeled her shirt halfway up her back.

"Jimmy!" She jerked up abruptly, like a rubber band snapping back into place, the top of her head colliding with his jaw. She yanked the shirt back down, her face wearing a look of horrified shock, staring at him as though he'd pulled out a knife and threatened rape.

He rubbed his jaw ruefully; he had that one coming. "You crack a rib, punkin?" He knew she was jumpy, but figured the rapport they'd established over breakfast gave him something over the others, meant that she had a degree of trust in him. If she had broken a rib, she'd wrapped herself up the wrong way.

"No," She ducked her head, blushing miserably. "Just leave it, I'll take care of it later." Automatically, in a posture he was quickly coming to associate with shame, Adanya pulled her knees up to her chest.

"Then why..." He watched her press her forehead to her knees, her hair sweeping forward like a curly, bloody curtain. "Adanya," She sniffed hugely, even Chris and Wade could hear it. "Look at me." She didn't lift her head, so he leaned in closer. "Why did you bind your chest?" His voice was low and soft, the kind of voice you'd favor in a doctor, or the soft and fatherly _"I still love you, even when you're bad." _

"I don't like them,"

"What?" James was pretty sure he'd heard her right, but even Victor and Bradley were leaning forward curiously. They weren't used to girls with shame or modesty.

"I don't like them," She repeated, lifting her head a bit, enough to displace the fan of her hair. Her eyes were red, but she wasn't crying. She looked about ten years younger than she really was.

"What's not to like?" Wade prodded, studying what little of her he could see. "What size bra do you wear?"

"Oh my God," She dropped her head again, pulling in on herself tighter, her white-knuckled hands wrapped around her wrists painfully tight. Jimmy felt pity knife through his heart.

"Anya, if you don't tell me, the terrorists will win." His grin was cocky and brash, casual. "Do you really wanna do that to your country?"

"Leave her alone," Dukes intoned, never moving. Like Wraith, he tried to sleep during the flights, but kept half an eye on his surroundings.

"Let's hear it," He poked her leg with the tip of his sword. "Spill your guts for all us nuts, Anya."

"Leave her alone," Dukes repeated, lifting a hand threatening. "Or I'll knock your teeth down your throat."

"Why, Anya?" She kept her head down, her shoulders trembling as though she was crying. "What, you got scars or something?" He leaned back lazily, pressing his luck. "Daddy put his hands there?"

In a flash, she'd leapt across the aisle and crouched on his lap, her eyes wild and furious. _"I will murder you!" _Her hands closed around his throat, her knees pressing against his ribs.

"You're on my lap!" Wade's gleeful expression turned ashen. "Anya," His voice was a croak, his hands scrabbling uselessly at her back, trying to pull her hair, jerk her away. He was paling quickly, his gorgeous face taking on a deathly white pallor, like graying old oatmeal.

"Adayna!" Stryker barked from up front. "Adanya Natalia Winters; _let him go_!" He'd never raise a hand to her, not since she was six and the last man to ever spank her bottom had come away with a shriveled, wasted mummy hand where his perfectly functioning left used to be.

"You ever, _ever_ say anything bad about my father again," The ashy white skin was turning pink, her hands a stark white against his rosy throat. He'd lost the power to fight her, striving only on his will to live, trying desperately to meet her eyes, plead for some semblance of her mercy. Choked, gagging noises escaped his lips, nobody moving to help.

If anything, Victor seemed amused.

"Adanya, that's enough!" Stryker smacked Zero in the back of the head, pointing to her. The other man gave a terse nod, clambering over the back of his chair, scaling the distance between them easily. Zero wrapped his arms around her waist, trying to jerk her off Wade's lap, amid the other men cheering and Stryker barking at her.

"Ever," Her maroon eyes were like chips of ruby. "And I will make your final moments the most excruciating possible." His face was almost completely red, patches of black circling his eyes. "You got me, Wilson?" The scarlet color leaked down his throat, encompassing his skin as she cooked him, slowly, cell by cell, from the inside out. "Blink." The black around his eyes widened fractionally, as she altered his vision until the only thing visible were the whites of his eyes, the black melding into the red like a mask

Wade blinked slowly, tears leaking from his eyes as he did so, not crying from pain but rather from his body's one defense against the onslaught against his blood cells, the liquid trying to cook his eyeballs. Behind them, Zero fell back onto the bench with a howl, both his palms seared and blistering.

Adanya's hands became soft and cool against his skin, the pain vanishing, replaced by a wash of slick cold that felt like heaven. It spread outward from his neck, reaching every cell and pore of his being. He felt remade, tingly and fresh, whole. Gingerly, he rubbed his throat and stared up at her. She was as fucking scary as she was pretty. Normally, he liked that in a girl, but Anya was something else.

She slid off his lap, staring down at him coldly. "Don't forget it."

* * *

Adanya had tucked back into herself shortly after her incident with Wade, locking her arms around her knees, humming something under her breath, studying her knees. Every so often, she'd take a handful of hair and scrunch it, watching the blood flake out and chip off. Stryker had long since given up trying to lecture her; his words fell on deaf ears. Victor had been chuckling under his breath at Wade's silence, which was blessed enough for the first ten minutes, then it was just creepy quiet. The silence persisted, punctuated with the occasional grunt or cracking of joints, until they landed.

"One of the quacks gave me a cream for that," Bradley watched North, wincing in pain with every motion, walk out of their plane. "You can use it," Zero had kept his arms up, hands close to his chest, as though to protect himself from Adanya.

"The fuck," He'd refused the morphine Stryker had offered, instead he sat and seemed to meditate while Stryker lectured Adanya.

"Ointment for burns and bruises and stuff," Bradley explained, staring. He half expected it to be worse, for all the cursing. Both palms were red and blistered, but it didn't look much worse than a first-degree burn to him. "Might help."

"How's Davey supposed to jack off later?" Wade laughed, slapping the other man on the back. "I think that stick in his ass keeps him from bending over far enough to suck himself off," He was back in full force, with some distance between himself and the she-bitch.

"He'll just get a nurse to help," Dukes chortled, slapping one's pert behind as she walked by. She threw him a shifty glance over her shoulder, not making a peep.

"Let me see your hands, David." Adanya's clothes rustled and crackled with each step, blood flaking off like morbid confetti. Her hair was stiff with the stuff, though she'd been crunching handfuls of it earlier. They all needed showers, but she'd be damned before she walked into that mess. It was bad enough in school, showering with the other girls, she wasn't about to do it with a bunch of men.

"Crazy bitch," He jerked his arms away, but she reached out to him, holding his colors still with her mind.

"Nobody is going to talk about my dad," Adanya covered his hands with her own carefully, trying not to touch the damaged flesh. "That was just your dumb luck to touch me, most people have sense not to."

"Fucking crazy," North shook his head, his face losing the pissed, pinched look he usually wore. "You're a fucking lunatic."

"Take care, Davey." She let go of him, his hands clean and whole once more, as though they'd never been burned. "And keep your hands off me."

* * *

"_Jimmy_," He heard her whisper from inside her bedroom, the door closed. "_Could you come here please_?" It was almost as good as telepathy.

Her door was unlocked, and he let himself in casually. Adanya sat cross-legged on her bed, freshly showered and smelling like lemons, clad in pink cotton pajamas, her hair plaited in two long pigtails. She'd been brushing out the ends idly, something to do with herself while she waited. She smiled for him when he closed the door, leaving them in the gentle pool of light from her lamp.

"How's your shoulder?" Absently, he leaned back against the door, unsure of where to put himself.

"Sore," She set her brush down, waving him closer. Only place to sit was the bed, there wasn't any room for a chair. "Bruised, but I don't think anything's broken." She looked rueful. "Brushing my hair was a beast, I'm not sure I'm taking it down for a while." She studied her toes a moment, the polish chipped. "Hey Jimmy, um, if I take off my shirt," She looked uncomfortable even mentioning undressing. "Do you think you can help me?"

She was inwardly amazed at how naturally he took it. "Sure," He stuck his hands in his pockets. "Whenever you're ready." He'd borrowed the aloe cream from Bradley earlier, expecting her to ask for help.

She stood, moving to the foot of her bed, near her clothes hamper. "I've never…I'm not used to…I've only ever been undressed in front of three men in my whole life," She blushed, fidgeting, picking at her buttons. "One of them was my dad."

"I'm honored." He sat on the edge of her bed, watching.

"That's not helping!" Adanya nearly laughed, caught between nervous and comfortable. She didn't like to admit it, but he was damn good looking man, and there was something incredibly sexy about him, something she couldn't quite put a name to. Wade had it too, that little oddity. Her fingers picked at the hem of her shirt. "Promise not to get all creepy?"

"Scout's honor." He clapped a hand over his eyes. "Whenever you're ready, Addy."

"Like you were ever a boy scout," She turned her back to him, lifting the garment over her head. Peeking, he saw the mummy wrap of beige bandages, wound around her waist, up over her bosom, over her shoulders like the straps of a jumper, pinned neatly at the side of her hip. Bra straps and a sliver of white camisole peeped out of the top. She'd been at it for a while, Jimmy assumed, as her bandages were layered perfectly, not so much as a bunch or roll to be seen. Adanya kept her back to him while she put her hair up, and sat cross-legged on her bed, scooting back to be within range. "You can look now."

"You gonna tell me why you wrap up?" He sat behind her, studying the ugly purple-black patch. Carefully, he palpitated the surrounding flesh, feeling out the damage. Carefully, he slipped his finger under the fabric that crossed her shoulder and pushed it aside, noting the red, irritated flesh beneath it. She'd struck the center of her shoulder blade, but the bruise radiated out in a wide circle.

"Compli-" She gasped sharply. "Cated."

"Sorry, punkin," He'd gotten too close to the bluish-purple outer circle. "You know, we all start out naked." He couldn't remember ever having a problem with his body, the way he looked. Only women he'd ever met like Adanya were nuns, or the girls who'd been abused as children.

"And then we realized it," She slumped as best she could under the restraints, peeking over her shoulder. "And we cover up." She looked back at her hands, lacing her fingers awkwardly, unsure of what to say. Should she explain herself, or leave him to wonder? Really wasn't his business anyhow.

"When'd you start?" In slow, gentle spirals, he began to rub in an aloe-based cream one of their lab techs gave to Bradley when he got too banged up. Now they had two functionally 'weak' members without healing factors. Adanya could hold her own, as she'd proven earlier, but she still took it harder than most.

"After I finished growing," Her voice was soft, frightened. "I wanted to do it when I started, but Emmy said I'd be deformed." The word sounded like a death sentence; there was no crueler fate than being a deformed woman, apparently.

"She's right," Whomever Emmy was, he thanked her silently. Wasn't much good he could do if she was deformed. "Shit, punkin, you could be hurtin' yourself right now." He laid his hands on her sides, feeling her through the stiff layers. Her ribs would start warping if she kept up; it was like wearing a training corset. "Y'aren't made to be strapped down and tucked in,"

"If you ever want to talk about it,"

"Please don't," There was a distinct hitch to her voice, as she moved away from him, sitting back against the wall with her knees drawn up. "Please don't do that, I just hate it when people do that."

He looked around for a distraction. "Jesus, you have teddy bears?" Big, shiny, button eyes stared at him from her pillow, warm and fuzzy.

"That's Hamburg," The pointed to the light brown bear. "And that one's Frankfurt," Darker brown, with floppy ears and a jaunty bowtie.

"Hamburg and Frankfurt," He almost laughed. "Hungry?"

"Germany, where I got them." She looked at the bears fondly. "Whenever he could, my dad took me on holiday with him. I've been all over the world." She pointed to the far wall, where a small map of the world had been tacked up. Small stars denoted all the places she'd been.

The guitar, pushed across the room in a fit of frustration, lay beneath it. "You play?"

"I know one song by heart." She pulled her pajama top back on, her tingling shoulder less painful.

"What's that?" A glimpse of the ceiling made him chuckle. She was _such_ a girl.

"Popsicles and icicles," Adanya announced proudly, dissolving into giggles beside him.

"Get some sleep," He leaned over and pressed a chaste kiss to her forehead. "Careful with that shoulder,"

"Thanks." She giggled, touching her forehead curiously. "My daddy does that sometimes."

"And for Pete's sake, don't truss yourself up so tight you can't breathe," He indicated his own ribs. "Last thing we need's you dropping because you can't get a break."

"Jimmy," She looked up shyly, favoring him with one of her moments of vulnerable honesty. "You know why I like you the best?"

"Enlighten me." He lingered in her doorway, ignoring Wade's wolf-whistle.

"You have self control," She pushed a braid back over her shoulder, playing with the end of the other. "You remind me of my Dad, and I know him well enough to know that you don't always do the right things," She made a point to lock her eyes on his. "But in the end, you'll always try and do right, even if it means you end up alone."

* * *

Shortly after James left, Stryker barged into Adanya's room uninvited and unannounced, like he owned the place. While he technically did, she still found it incredibly rude and didn't bother to sit up, or acknowledge him until she'd finished her page.

She looked up from her copy of The Scarlet Letter. "Here to bitch me out?" She slid a playing card between the pages and set it aside, sitting up.

"That was extremely dangerous, Adanya, not to mention incredibly stupid." He closed the door behind himself, as though it would keep the others from overhearing his yelling. She was as nonplussed as Wade or Victor, which irked him further.

"I was in control the whole time," Adanya shrugged, her coolness infuriating. "I know what I can do, isn't that why I'm here?"

"And Zero?" Stryker inquired snidely. "You could have crippled my bodyguard, a bigger asset to this team than you are."

Adanya smirked, unimpressed. "He should have kept his hands off," She crossed her arms and remained staunch. "He doesn't have any reason to touch me, he shouldn't." She met his gaze fiercely, locked in a battle of wills. "You brought me here, now you can deal with me." There wasn't a closet in her room, and he'd have to drag her out past them men to find one. They were at a draw.

"Brat," Stryker relented finally, tossing the envelope he held on her bed. "I shouldn't give you that, after your little tantrum, but you've earned it. I've arranged for an escort to take you in the morning."

"What's this?" She picked it up curiously, shaking it, turning it over in her hands, going so far as to sniff it.

"I believe it's called money." Stryker watched her work the top open, barely ripping the paper. "It's also your first official paycheck, so to speak." He softened at her stunned look.

"There must be a thousand dollars here," She slid the neat stack of bills from the envelope slowly, eyes wide.

"Two." Stryker corrected, glancing at his surroundings. It didn't take her long to convert a concrete room into something warm and cozy. "Not as much as the others, but this was only your first job."

"Two thousand dollars?" She stared at him, mouth agape. "For what?" She'd never held so much at once, let alone had it.

"Shopping." She stared. "Private Lyman is going to escort you," He sat, stiffly, on the edge of her bed. "I understand you don't have much field clothing."

"You can drop the formality, we're alone." Carefully, she pushed the money back into the envelope with her fingertips. "You've seen me in the bathtub, Uncle Billy, you don't have to act all superior." She leaned over the side of her bed, tucking it into a shoebox.

"You were less of a woman then," He relaxed visibly, picking up Frankfurt. "How's that shoulder?"

"Better." Unconsciously, she reached back and touched it. "I've been working on it, and Jimmy rubbed some stuff on it earlier."

"Logan?" His eyebrows rose.

"Is that his name? I've been calling him James," She looked almost thoughtful, rolling the words around in her mind. "Hm, James Logan."

"Adanya,"

"I'm not apologizing." She stiffened, drawing her knees up to her chest and locking her arms around them. "You can threaten me until you're blue in the face and I can't scream anymore, but I'm not apologizing. That was rude, and uncouth, and uncalled for."

"So was your reaction," He lectured sternly. "You could have killed him,"

"Really?" She gave him a long, searching look, stretching her limbs absently. "If he'd said your name, would it still be too much?"

"Adanya,"

"I'm not going to listen to anyone bad-mouthing my dad," She insisted hotly, shaking her head. "Especially some pissant jerk like Wade Wilson." She spit his name like acid.

"I thought you'd like him,"

"Why, because he's cute?" She laughed in his face. "I'll give him that, but so's David Bowie." She laughed again, shaking her head as she held herself. "Donny Osmond's pretty cute, but I don't like him either." Lazily, her gaze stole up to the ceiling. "He's good looking, but he's not my type."

"Adanya," He pinched the flesh between his eyes. "What is that doing up there?"

"Jim Morrison," She giggled. "I _like_ him." She giggled again, impishly. "If you could get him on the team…" She crawled her fingers over the bedspread. "I mean, I'm all for the living breathing guys, but if you could pull some strings…" She crawled her fingers up his arm. "Hmm?"

"Adanya," He pushed her hand away, a smile lighting on his face for a moment. "You're horrible, you know that? What would your father say?" Stryker stood. "It's bad enough I've left you with them," He jerked his thumb at the door. "Now you want me to resurrect dead musicians that neither of us like or approve of?"

"Good night," She slid under her covers, scooping her bears closer. "Turn off the lamp, please."

* * *

Logan was laughing to himself as he stepped into his room. He liked her, more than he should. Girl was a regular piece of work; the more time he spent with her, the more he understood her feelings about being like Eve, and the more he saw how Stryker figured she'd be good for Wade. They'd balance each other out, between the highs and lows.

"The fuck are you laughing at?" Victor was already in bed, thought the musky scent in the air told them both he'd been jacking off, and hadn't bothered with the decency of going to the shower room to do it. Only thing that bugged a feral more than being trapped was being trapped in a place that reeked of another feral's scent; Victor was out to punish his brother for the girl.

"She's a cute kid," Logan stripped off his clothing, dropping it carelessly on the floor, climbing into bed. One of their many uniformed attendants had changed the linens, the felt clean and smelled fresh.

"She's gonna get her ass handed to her,"

"You still on about that fork?" He chuckled in the darkness, settling into his bed. "She's not a prostitute, Victor, you're just pissed she one-upped you." He rolled over and grinned like a schoolboy, something he saved especially for his brother. "_Victor got beat by a girl_."

"Fuck you," A pillow flew from the other bed, hitting him rather solidly in the chest.

He tucked it under his ass mockingly. "Thanks, I wanted another pillow."

"Jimmy,"

"Leave her alone," The playful atmosphere vanished, leaving only the cold darkness and the reek of semen. Bastard beat himself off more than once.

Victor sat up, staring across the room. "You got a thing for her?" His voice was rich with mocking laughter, sarcasm and spite dripping from his words.

"Same thing I got for any girl bein' where she's got no business bein'," Logan's voice was firm, his hands tucked into fists. "I mean it, Victor, leave her alone."

"Or what, she's gonna sic Stryker on me?" Victor scoffed, his nails extending and retracting swiftly. "I ain't scared of him."

"Do it because I'm asking you to." He dug the pillow out from beneath him and heaved it at his older brother. "That's what."

"Damn it, Jimmy, now it smells like ass."

* * *

Around midnight, Adanya crept out of her room and slipped down the halls like a shadow. She wasn't tired enough to sleep, and there was just the nicest looking lake really close to their wing, maybe a three minute walk away. She kept forgetting the name, but the water was cool and crisp and looked clean; she'd seen men out there the other day for endurance tests. Making a surprisingly clean and easy escape from the building, she watched her breath on the air, short puffs of vapor as she scurried across the base. The dock was in surprisingly good shape, complete with a little bench on the shore for her things.

The water looked calm and clear as glass, smooth with hardly a ripple or wave in sight. Adanya smiled a little, missing Marty, but at the same time glad he wasn't there. There would be no dance at the end of the dock, no joining of hands below the water, no secrets to share under the dock…

But for once, she could run like hell and take a flying leap into the water without him clucking at her like a mother hen.

And so she did, with a whooping rebel yell as she went.

Adanya swam for an hour, diving deep, relishing in the icy feel, popping up to watch an owl swoop overhead. A scuffle broke the quiet peace, a flash of color going off behind her eyes.

"Which one of you is out there?" She treaded water, scanning the shore. "Show's over, come on out!"

"It's not warm enough to go swimming, Anya." Wade, hardly visible in the meager rays of moonlight, stood on the dock. "Besides, you're not supposed to go into the water without a buddy." He knelt at the edge, reaching down for her hand. "I could have been a crazy serial killer, and you're out here alone."

She climbed up the side, brushing a weed off her leg. "I thought you were Jimmy,"

"Nah, I'm better looking." He flexed a little, showing off the lines of his abdomen, his sweat pants riding low on his hips. "And I don't clog the shower drain every two days." He almost laughed at her soaked pink pajamas, clinging to her like a wrinkled, rippled second skin.

"He's nice," Adanya replied slowly, wringing out her braids.

"If you're a girl." Wade shrugged absently. "You feel any better?"

"He didn't say I was going to be killing people," She began to wring out her top, walking down the dock to where her things were.

"Would you have come with us if he had?" Wade followed her, shivering when the wind picked up and whipped across the lake, sweeping over them.

"No," Simple fact, she wasn't going to lie. "I'm not a murderer, Wade."

He wasn't fazed. "It's a job."

"Is that how you sleep at night?" Another chilly bite of night air swirled around them, she was tempted to get back in the water. "They're still people, Wade, with wives and children and fam--" She lost her voice.

"You don't ever do that again," His eyes flashed dangerously. "Don't ever make yourself feel sorry for them," He instructed, gazing at her with something like pity in his eyes. "I thought you had training."

"I do, but I still have a mind of my own, and more home training than combat." Unconsciously, she wrapped her arms around herself, trying to conceal anything her wet, clingy clothing might reveal.

"Home training," Wade scoffed, rolling his eyes. "You're still wrapped." His voice softened.

"I'm not stupid, I knew someone would come looking for me." She'd been quiet as a church mouse, but it was impossible not to make noise leaving that place. "Don't think I don't know what men see when they look at me, Wade, I'm not a stupid girl."

"That's not right, Anya, it can't be comfy." It couldn't be any sort of comfortable, if she bound herself that tightly and still had curves to show for it. "You know you're committing race suicide, I'm gonna have to alert the president." He touched her arm, his hand warm on her skin. "It's really not healthy, babe, seriously."

She had to smile. "Wade,"

"Who warped you, Anya?" She dropped her gaze, busying herself with her things, toweling her hair dry. "Huh? Tell me," For once, it didn't sound like a challenge. He sounded sincere, like he'd slay her dragons.

Wary to the last, she tossed him a glance over her towel. "Does it matter?" She dried her arms carefully, her shoulder screaming at her with every stretch.

"Yes," He kept his distance, knowing how well she could defend herself. His throat had been murder on the plane.

"Why?" She didn't look at him, but knelt to pick up her clothing.

"Because I want to know." He fought to keep his voice steady, free of sarcasm. "It's a thing with me, I need to know things."

"Well privacy is one of my things," As if to emphasize her point, she stepped behind a clump of bushes to change clothes. Wade saw a wad of damp bandaging fall to the ground, then the tail end of a fresh roll flickered near her ankle, climbing upward as she wound it around her chest.

"I'm sorry, for what I said earlier, about your dad." He couldn't forget the mingled sensations, mostly pain, but a little sliver of pleasurable shock when she'd pounced his lap.

"Are you?" She stepped out from behind the bushes, clad in a faintly yellow nightgown, the smocked bodice concealing what little of her chest was still visibly rounded. It was long-sleeved, as most of her garments were, but she'd used pins to hike the hem up above her ankles.

"Most girls that act like you,"

"He never did anything like that!" Adanya insisted hotly, almost angrily, wrapping a blanket around herself. "My dad's not a saint, but he's never, _ever_ done anything like…_that_." She wrapped herself more securely, slipping her damp feet into her moccasins. "Why'd you come out here?" She lowered her tone.

He wasn't quite sure why either. "Because I wanted to," Because he wanted to see her in the moonlight, because he wanted to apologize, because girls were easier to play with in the dark…he wasn't sure what he was after with this one.

She picked up her wet clothing. "Uh-huh," She started past him. "I appreciate your concern, Wade."

"And I wanted to make sure you were okay," He sounded pained. "We never had a girl before, unless you count Bradley, none of us ever lost it on a mission like that." He caught her arm, turning her around, though her gaze remained staunchly on the ground. "Anya, you're a girl."

"Well spotted." She cracked, shaking her head. "Really, I didn't think anybody was aware of it until just right now."

"You're the only girl here,"

Her eyes widened, feigning amazement. "You are just on a roll, did someone sprinkle awareness in your Sugar Smacks this morning?"

"Will you shut up, I'm trying to be concerned here!" She smiled behind her hands, dropping her clothes. "You make it so fucking difficult…don't you laugh at me!" She hid her giggles behind a fist. "Who do think you are, laughing at me? I'm Wade Winston Wilson!"

"I'm Adanya Natalia Winters," She took his hand, shaking it briefly. "Charmed to make your acquaintance, sir."

* * *

It's so cute you guys all think just because she's been brought in as his 'playmate' that Adanya's going to end up with Wade. What if I set her with Victor, huh? What'cha think about that? (giggles) How do ya like me now?

I think it'd be pretty darn amazing if all seventeen of you that have on alerts left a review. (wink wink)

Seriously though, I love that people have taken an interest in this. Leave me a review, send me a PM; whatever. Just please let me know what you think. And as a side note, expect me to ask more of you as readers pretty quickly, because I'm not sure how I'd like this to end. Might just have to cut this short and have multiple endings, like the movies do.


	5. Chapter 5

Adanya was a little bit spooky. Just a little, Logan decided, as he lay in his bed and strained his ears, hoping for a wayward scuffle. She moved about the rooms silently, the only indication of life or activity came when she started cooking, and the rich aroma of coffee permeated the air. He could smell her, he could hear her breathing, her heartbeat…he just couldn't hear her walking around. From the smell of it though, she could cook.

How cute, Adanya the ghost-chef.

"Someone needs to teach that girl to read a clock," Victor groused. "It's five in the goddamn morning and she's fucking cooking."

"So get up and eat, she'd probably make you something." Logan replied pleasantly, pulling a shirt over his head. He didn't mind her anymore than Dukes or Bradley, but it was still funny to see the resistance to her charm. She could fight pretty well, she kept it together on the field, she was cute and funny and sweet; only problem was her gender and her innocence. It was more than apparent she wasn't made for battle, but when push came to shove, she could hold her own.

"Fuck it," He rolled over. "I ain't asking a fucking frail for fucking anything."

"So you'll come out when everybody else does," Logan taunted, throwing a balled up sock at his brother's head. "You know girls don't have cooties, right Victor?"

"Fuck you,"

* * *

"Morning Logan," She'd set the table, and was lingering near the stove cooking pancakes. She'd made everything that might be appealing, according to her few interactions with the male mind, which ranged from eggs and bacon to toast and sausage. She was a smart little cook too; everything was either lidded or tented with foil. "I know your name now, James Logan." She looked at him over her shoulder, still wearing her nightgown, smiling a little coyly.

"You keep this up, Dukes and Wraith are gonna start waking up early." Logan shook his head, staring at the array of food. Nobody on base ate like this, even the high-up assholes. "Shit, I think Victor damn near got out of bed."

"Bring it on," She set the plate on the table, pouring coffee. "I like cooking, I used to cook for my dad." She set the carafe down, her nose twitching.

"Miss him?" He sat down where she'd indicated, across from the chair she'd pulled out for herself.

"Like crazy," She sat, legs tucked beneath her. "I haven't seen him in a year, before that it wasn't more than a couple days at a time." She stirred her cereal moodily. "Maybe it's better off, he always makes me cry when he leaves." She looked up. "Leaves me a note and a piece of jewelry. I never trust a man who gives me jewelry." She looked away, blinking.

"He know you wrap up?"

"That's not polite table conversation, and you know it." Her lovely maroon eyes chastised him. "That's worse than me almost crying over my dad,"

"It bothers me, punkin'," He charged on. "That you're torn up about something and won't tell anybody how to help fix it."

"I'm not discussing that at the table." Adanya shushed him, smearing blueberry preserves on her toast. "It's not polite, proper, or light mealtime conversation. The topic is null and void, therefore dismissed." There was an unhappy tremor to her voice, bordering on a depressive tantrum that would only lead to harm. She studied her toast, setting it back on her plate with a huffy sigh, resuming the stirring of her cereal. This was not what she'd wanted.

"What's that?" He pointed his fork at the brown mush in her bowl.

"Maypo," She swirled her spoon through it again. "It's like maple flavored oatmeal, I had to eat three bowls of it a week when I was little."

"You don't change much, do you?" He mimed her action, tracing the tines of his fork around his food instead of eating it. "Keep things they way they were, patterns and habits and whatnot."

"Guess so," She tucked her hair back behind her ear. "Sometimes I just miss when it was simpler, before I had to worry about so many things." Her eyes were glassy-glossy, caught up in her own thoughts, on the brink of breaking down again. "Before Maggie taught me to be afraid."

Logan pounced. "Who's Maggie?" Adanya dropped her spoon, gaping at him. A pregnant silence fell between them, while he waited expectantly and she wracked her brain for a good lie.

"Somebody made us breakfast," A singsong voice came from the common room. "Somebody's getting kissed later,"

Adanya exhaled slowly, unaware she'd even held her breath. "It's just Wade." She welcomed the distraction with a chipper smile. "Morning Wade."

"Mornin' babe," Wade mussed her hair as he passed, like they were the best of friends. "Aw, you're sweet, you made me breakfast." He leaned back, playing with her hair. "And Freddy said you didn't like us."

"Babe?" Logan mouthed, looking at her inquisitively. "Did I miss something when you snuck out last night, punkin'?"

Adanya shrugged, poking her spoon back into her Maypo mush. "Search me, you won't find anything." So much for her casual, off-the-cuff, almost flirty breakfast with Jimmy. "And it's not sneaking when you use the front door."

"So, you gonna ask me along, next time you go swimming?" Wade moved around behind her, pausing every so often to get her attention. "You know, it's not nice to just wander off without an escort,"

"Usually, an escort comes with a chaperone." She swung her eyes to Jimmy, who gave her a very rude finger over his food.

"We'll take my imaginary friend Timmy, shove him down a well." Wade waved a hand airily. "Details, babe, details." He made a grab for her when she stood, dodging him to scrape her bowl into the garbage.

"Tempting," She set her bowl in the sink. "But I have a previous engagement to attend to," She shrugged lightly. "Sorry." She turned, walking out of the kitchenette as Bradley was walking in. "Morning Chris,"

"You make that nightgown look _sex-ay_, Anya." She spun around, eyes wide. "High collar and long sleeves, _rowr_!" Adanya giggled before she could help herself, a hand coming to her lips.

"Wade," Logan's voice was low and threatening. Somehow, he'd managed to breeze by sexual tension, fend off attraction, and land himself flat in the role of her keeper. He saw Adanya as most men his apparent age did; as a shy and vulnerable little angel to be protected from sex-fiend beasts like Wade Winston Wilson, for her own good as well as for the balance of the universe to remain intact.

"Made her smile, I'm off the hook." Wade grinned at her wickedly, as he did with every female he intended to bed.

And just like that, Logan knew he was gunning for a lost cause.

* * *

Apparently, they had the day off. The other men, the regular soldiers, as Adanya was learning to defer to them as, were all going about their normal business, but Team X was just being lazy. Dukes and Wraith were out watching grunts being put through the motions, Bolt was swimming in the lake, Victor was God-knows-where doing God-knows-what, Logan and Adanya were reading, and Wade was intermittently honing his katana and watching television.

Adanya sneezed. "Bless you, punkin',"

She didn't look up from her book. "Do you call all the girls punkin'?"

"Little ones," He didn't look up from his book either, turning a page. "Little girls are usually punkin's or half-pints,"

"Oh." Her nose twitched when she turned the page. "How little is little?"

"Miss Winters?" She looked up from her novel, to a uniform standing in the doorway. "I'm Private Nathaniel Lyman, I'm going to be escorting you into the city this afternoon." Adanya nodded, setting her book aside.

"The city?" Wade looked up from his katana. "What for?"

"What else," She shrugged into her cardigan. "Shopping." She scooped up her little beaded purse. "I'm not supposed to be modest or ladylike in skirts, so I have to go get some pants." She picked up her floppy, wide-brimmed sunhat. "Bye guys,"

Somehow, she wasn't surprised when she didn't get a response, and acted like it didn't matter as she followed Lyman through the compound, but inside, in places she wasn't sure she wanted the rest of them to know about, it stung like a slap across the face and burned like fever.

A Jeep was waiting for them, Adanya put on her sunhat and unbuttoned her cardigan, ignoring the more obvious comments than rang out from the men running around the area, either going through drills or jogging in packs, chanting and shouting. Lyman took it all in stride, taking her arm and walking her to the Jeep like they were embarking on a very formal date and he was setting an example of gentlemanly behavior.

"You're a cutie," Lyman opened the door for her. "Surprised they put you with the animals." He slammed it shut, mindful of her clothing, and came around the other side. "Are you like their nurse or something, I know they're supposed to be Stryker's special ops."

"I'm hard to resist," Adanya shrugged out of her cardigan, ignoring the last part of his question. "It's a blend of cuteness, charm, vulnerability, and my innate ability to hand-feed tigers." She'd been "taming tigers", as her Daddy called it, since she was three and saluted a General without being prompted or introduced. She simply shot up from her dolls, sprang into 'the most adorable salute ever' and won his heart. She didn't understand the gesture, but everyone else around her did it when a man in uniform appeared, and it always went over well.

Lyman's eyes lingered, turning the key in ignition. "Tigers, huh?" He grinned at her. "You look more like a puppy or kitten type to me," They started along, passing several jealous looking men who catcalled and whistled.

_"Have her home before curfew, young man!"_

"I've always had a taste for taming tigers," She shrugged, watching the scenery as they passed. It all looked so innocuous in the daylight; the night she'd been shipped in was dark and frightful, like a drive-in horror show. "Daddy says I could make the devil drop to his knees and say ten Hail Mary's with a single look."

"I know your father," He knew her name, weren't many listed girls with African names under the 'children and families' subheading of Stryker's directory. "General, right?"

"Yeah?" She held onto her hat with an arm, as they whipped around a corner. "General Malcolm Winters,"

"Saved my ass a few times," Lyman slowed down, watching her from the corner of his eye. "You're a lucky girl, he's a damn good man."

"I hear that a lot." She wrinkled her nose. "Can you switch the radio?"

He fiddled with the dials, keeping half an eye on the road until something familiar hit his ears. "I like John Denver,"

"Me too. You like The Doors?" Adanya perked up, sitting a little straighter. The motion pulled her blouse tighter over her bosom, and Lyman's gaze crept off the road and onto her chest. "Or the Murmaids? I love Cass Elliot, she has such an amazing voice."

"Sure," He wasn't sure what he was agreeing to, but the view was pretty nice.

"Cool." Adanya stuck her arm out the window, cool streams of air washing over her skin. Maybe it would all be more bearable if she made a couple friends outside Stryker's circle.

* * *

Daley, it turned out, was the closest town with five-and-dime shops as well as department stores, and it was about an hour's drive from base. It was a small town, but it had two drug stores, three churches, _and_ a Woolworth's, so it wasn't quite as hick as she'd anticipated, for being so out of the way. They pulled into a drug store parking lot alongside a mint green Cadillac, a few older men pausing to salute Lyman as he passed, teenage boys wolf-whistling at Adanya. A friendly, smiling pharmacist greeted them, handing over a town circular and some scrap paper when Adanya asked.

Lyman bought Popsicles while she perused the circular, handing her an orange confection that immediately dribbled on the scrap paper she'd made a shopping list on. It missed her script, by grace, but still left a big orange splotch. "Oops," Adanya stuck half the frozen treat in her mouth and sucked hard, blotting the list with a napkin. "That always happens, doesn't it?"

"Huh," Lyman's was dripping down his hand; he'd been transfixed by Adanya's impromptu reaction.

"They always drip a little, no matter how cold it is when you buy one," She licked up the side, drawing a line with the tip of her tongue. "You're getting all messy," She pointed to his hand, sticky and red.

"Oh, yeah." He sucked the melting treat thoughtfully. "I should have asked if you wanted cherry,"

"I like cherry," She gave another deep suck on the cold stick. "But orange is good too. I used to buy these with Sunny, for the jokes." Thoughtfully, she nibbled on the tip of her Popsicle. "So I think we should go to Sears first, because they usually have things that I like,"

"Okay," Lyman agreed around a cold mouthful of melting Popsicle, transfixed with her mouth. Pouty pink with cherry gloss, wrapped around a dribbly Popsicle; she was a sin waiting to happen.

"Then I want to go to Maxi's, Woolworth's, and Maxwell fabrics." She brushed a drop of melted Popsicle off her lip. "Castle Records, of course, and there's a sweets shop just kitty-corner to the grocer's, we'll go there last."

"How much do you plan on buying?" Lyman gave up the ghost, dropping the melting, broken remains of his Popsicle on a napkin and settled on chewing the stick. "We only have the Jeep, and we really can't fit a whole new wardrobe in there."

"I need stuff," Adanya gave him a reproachful look, looking about as threatening as a wet kitten. She slurped off the last of her treat and looked at her stick. "Stryker said I could go shopping, he never said how often or how much."

"Okay," Lyman watched her, fascinated as always that women could be so utterly sexy and not realize it in the least.

She looked up from her stick, rolling her eyes at the corny joke. "When is the best time to buy a bird?" She sucked on her stick, trying to clean off all the orange dye. She looked at him pointedly, tapping her chin.

"When?" Lyman wiped a dribble of red off his chin, standing up and offering his hand.

"When it goes _cheep_," Adanya followed him out of the little drug store, clutching the scrap paper and her purse.

"That's bad,"

"I know." She agreed, looking at their surroundings. "What's yours?" It was a cute little town, something like the one she'd spent a couple months in as a child, but it lacked the warmth of Chesapeake. Then again, Chesapeake had Emmy and Marty and the Cook County Cougar squad.

He glanced at it, then at her. "What are three words you never want to hear while making love?"

"Huh?" She froze, looking at his Popsicle stick with wide eyes. "I know it's the 'revolution', but kids eat these." She stared at the joke printed on her stick. "Mine's clean, how'd you get a dirty one?"

"Honey, I'm home!" He announced in a cheery, Ward Cleaver voice.

"It does not say that!" She slapped his arm, tossing her stick into a garbage can.

"No, it doesn't." His stick followed hers. "You feel like grabbing some lunch? Not every day I can take a pretty girl out," He scooped his arm through hers. "A girl cannot live on Popsicles alone, can she?"

Something clicked in her head. "Lyman," She felt horrible; poor guy had his hopes up.

"Baby killer!" A soda can followed a loud, screeching voice from across the street. "War's over, murderer! Murderer!"

Lyman shoved her away, toward the buildings. "Down!" Adanya was already clear, crouched below a bench, while a couple old men searched the sky frantically.

"Damn hippies," One of the old men muttered, reaching under the bench and tapping Adanya's head. "S'okay, honey," She came out from under the bench, brushing off her knees.

"Lyman?" She offered him a hand, hauling him to his feet like a comrade in arms. He kept forgetting how strong she was, a lot of power packed into a pretty little girl.

"Huh?" He brushed off his clothing, half paying attention.

"Was that a Yippee, or a Hippie?" She narrowed her eyes and looked across the street at the pack of them, lingering near a produce stand. Three or four men and two girls, all dressed in similar shirts and vests with purple and yellow headbands.

"Is there a difference?" He glared at the soda can. "Fucking ingrate losers," He walked in stony silence with her, back around the drug store to the Jeep.

"Energy." Adanya threw her sunhat into the Jeep, checking her purse again. "Yippee's have more energy, they smoke less pot and spend more time yelling."

* * *

"You think two bolts is too much?" After perusing store after store after store, Adanya decided it was simpler to just make her own clothes. Everything her size was too trendy and flashy for her liking, although Lyman seemed to get his kicks from picking up skirts and tops and go-go boots to show her. She'd bought three things, new shoes, a sewing machine, and the accessory kit, and made Lyman carry it all while she smirked.

"For you? Are you making a new wardrobe or a few pairs of pants?" He stared at her, then the shelves of fabric. This was all Greek to him.

"Well, things get ruined easily." Adanya sorted through rolls of trim at the counter, while a pert blonde stood by patiently. "And God knows I'll end up doing all the mending and whatnot for everyone else, because I'm a _girl_." She made the word sound dirty. "And I've never sewn pants before."

"What can I pull for you, miss?" The blonde smiled for them prettily, stowing a pair of shears in her apron pocket.

Adanya rubbed her sunburned nose. "Denim, leather, cotton in prints and solids, wool, polyester, and jersey to start. I'll need some yarn, too, embroidery floss and tapestry needles." She instructed the ponytail blonde, who nodded and bopped away, pulling bolts of fabric from the shelves. She pulled several shades and colors of each, laying them in neat stacks on her cutting table.

"Cripes,"

"I grew up making my own clothes," Adanya shrugged, stacking small boxes of sewing notions into a neat pile. "I like doing all this; for the most part, it relaxes me. If nothing else, it'll put me to sleep at night." She studied a box of black buttons. "Maybe I'll start working on a hope chest, or a quilt. I could try making another fall coat, my last one turned out nice."

"You wanna make a new dress?" He held up a pattern packet. "This one's got a halter dress you'd look good in."

_"You're the kind of woman men like, Adanya." _The voice in her ears was as cold and short as ever, grating on her like nails on the chalkboard at school. Maggie had gotten a phone call from Eleanor Mayfield down the street, complimenting Adanya's pretty pink dress and how sweet and grown up she looked with Martin and Emily, walking the field that evening.

_"Maggie,"_

_"You look like a cheap whore," _She smeared the pad of her thumb over Adanya's lower lip, smearing pink lip stain over her cheek._ "A prostitute, a streetwalker," _Her gnarled fist gripped a handful of carefully coiffed curls, decorated lightly with pink baby roses and matching ribbons._ "What would your father say?"_

_"He doesn't have to know, Maggie," _She was twelve; they'd all gone to a football game together. Maggie knew it, she knew because she'd given Adanya permission to go, she just didn't know Adanya was wearing a new dress, or going with Martin Prince.

_"He doesn't have to know?" _She clucked her tongue, shaking her head._ "He doesn't have to know."_

_"We don't have to tell him, it was only one date, and nothing happened." _Adanya looked horrified._ "I don't think Marty even likes girls, we just walked around the field together, ask anyone, we were always in plain sight. Emmy was with us,"_

_"He doesn't have to know."_

_"Maggie," _She pleaded desperately, regretting even looking at the sewing pattern when Emmy brought it out. Matching dresses, she chirped, in ballerina pink and baby blue, so they'd match.

_"Look at you," _She sank her fingers into the knot of dark curls at the back of Adanya's head, jerking the girl up off her chair in a quick motion._ "Just as bold as brass, proud as could be." _She cast a long, contemptuous glare at Adanya's dress; soft, off the shoulder, demure but baring a hint of cleavage above the curved swell of her budding breasts_. "Red, the color of whores. I should have known."_

_"It's pink, Maggie," _Emmy had gone shopping with her, seven different stores before they found the perfect shade of soft ballerina pink, to match the baby roses Marty had gotten for her hair. Everyone at the game had liked it, even her teachers.

_"I can see," _She hissed, pulling Adanya close enough to smell the peppermint candy on her breath, to see the little dark hair popping out of her chin._ "I can see all of you, your wicked thoughts, your dirty ambitions," _She cast a disdainful glance at Adanya's breasts. _"I can see your sins." _She let go of Adanya's hair, rubbing her palm on her apron-covered skirt like she'd touched something dirty.

_"They're called breasts, Maggie, even Eve had them." _A sharp smack across her face landed her hard on her hands, beside the chair.

_"Sinner!" _Maggie screamed suddenly, snatching up a thick tome from the table._ "Beguiler! Whore! Salome!"_

_"They're supposed to be there. God made me like this for a reason," _Adanya shouted, throwing her arms up over her head to shield herself. Again and again, a thick, leather-bound copy of the Bible made contact with the top of her head, her arms, her neck and shoulders; anyplace she couldn't readily block.

_"Don't you dare take his name!" _The voice cracked, wracking with a cough, though the book made contact again and again._ "You dare speak his name, you whore! Daughter of sin, wicked temptation of flesh, nasty lying little slut!" _She paused, sucking in a shuddering breath._ "Up on your knees, you filthy mongrel, get up! We're going to pray and pray and pray that the Lord saves you from yourself," _She slapped Adanya again, with her hand instead of the book._ "Up, up! Or I'll put you in the closet where you belong!"_

"Miss?" The blonde poked her arm again, worried eyes scrutinizing her behind the horn-rimmed glasses.

"Linen," Adanya came back to herself abruptly, smiling warmly for the slightly bewildered salesgirl. "I'll need linen as well." A linen bandeau would be easier than wrapping with bandages, more comfortable too. If nothing else, it would get Jimmy off her case.

"Yes miss," She nodded again. "What color?"

"White."

* * *

Lyman had given up trying to get Adanya's attention after the fabric store, instead he carried her things and let her switch the stations in the Jeep, driving in a silence that made her wonder if she'd done something fundamentally wrong. There were no cute jokes, no wisecracks, no catcalls as he helped her bring things inside, or when he brought her a table for her sewing machine, and helped her set it up. He gazed at her pityingly before he left, muttered that he'd see her around. She broke out some of the denim and embarked on new territory

Adanya studied the pattern carefully, running her hands over the smooth, dark denim. Surely pants weren't so hard to make, people wore them everywhere, all the time, but her last three had turned out horribly. A sound from the doorway made her look up.

"Hello Victor,"

"What's all this?" He saw piles of rumpled fabric lying on the floor at her feet, boxes stacked on a table, bags and bolts of fabric lying around, a box of what looked like sewing stuff on the table beside her.

"I'm trying to make pants," She stood, pressing the raw edged fabric to her thighs. "You want a soda?" She pointed to her little bucket of ice, bearing three bottles.

"Shit, kid, you're really into the junk food, aren't you," He walked to the fridge instead; unearthing a beer from the case she'd put in there a few hours earlier. "Worse than Wade."

"I wasn't allowed much as a child, it was only milk and water." Mostly, the women she lived with her older, some spinsters, who believed anything else would make her hyper and fat. "Do you know anything about sewing?" The crotch of her latest attempt was horrible, still on the table, salvageable if she could rip out the seams and shorten the length.

"No."

"You want me to make you something?" She looked up hopefully. "I bought leather to make a jacket,"

"No."

"I'm sorry I forked you in the eye."

"I'm sure you are," A long, pregnant silence fell between them, as Victor sat down and watched her play with her needles, carefully changing the machine and then re-threading it. Even with her back to him, she fidgeted under the weight of his stare.

"Can I see them?" She turned around and leaned back against her table. "It's been driving me crazy." She hefted herself up and perched on the edge. "Please?" She pushed aside her supplies, swinging her legs like a child, the heels of her shoes hitting the table with each swing. It was a bit ludicrous to keep her shoes on inside, but the floors were cold and she hardly ever wore them anymore.

"What?" He stared at her, blinking.

"Your nails," She clarified, tucking her hair back behind her ears. "Talons, claws, whatever you call them, may I see them?" He stood, setting down his beer. "And by seeing them, I don't mean sinking into some part of my body, just seeing your hands."

Victor chuckled, a low, dark sound that rolled through her like whiskey. He leaned up on her table casually offering his hand, palm down, flexing his nails like he would flex a muscle; in-out, in-out, rhythmically slowly, watching her face.

Her eyes widened fractionally. "You scared, little girl?" In a swift, graceful motion, he swept his hand up under her jaw, forcing her to look up at him, the tips of his nails gliding over her flawless skin. He drank in her look of shock with a little thrill of pleasure, a tiny smile baring the tips of his fangs.

"Little bit," The hand slipped lower, wrapping around the column of her throat, his thumb rubbing over the thrum of her pulse reverently. "Doesn't that hurt?"

"No." He pressed the pads of his fingers into her throat, feeling the blood pump harder with her sharp gasp. "Power is in the hands,"

"Mine's in my head," The hand relaxed, her blood slowed. "Imagination into energy into force." Her smaller hands curled around his, pulling away from her throat and spreading his fingers wide, the tips of her own tracing the lines in his palm. She leaned forward, resting her cheek flat on his palm, his fingers tangling in her long, soft hair.

Eyes closed, she relaxed.

She sighed, so peacefully and unexpectedly he felt a little foreign jerk behind his naval, staring down at her. So trusting in the hands that could crush her with no more effort than squashing a bug on the sidewalk. As far as women went she wasn't his type, but he'd seen worse. Too whiny, this one, and too frail, too stupid too, if this was any indication of her idea of how to handle danger.

She opened her eyes slowly, her gaze utterly intense, belying her expression of innocence. "I like your hands, Victor."

* * *

"She's not cut out for this," Zero argued, for the umpteenth time. "The mere sight of blood upsets her." He stood in the main drag of the lab with Stryker and the quacks, discussing their shady plans for Adanya and the 'dead pool' they kept on about. It was one of the few things Stryker kept to himself about, but she was apparently big business to them.

"We need her," The blonde insisted. "We need to isolate the mutation, to unzip the sequence that controls it. We need to get into her head, see how and why she can do this…this manipulation of cells. If she can reprogram a man's blood to boil, to cook him alive from the inside out, she can reprogram normal, natural cells to unlock…" She caught her breath in a gasp. "She could reproduce a genetic dead pool on imagination alone, sir,"

"Carol,"

"We need more time, tissue samples." Another doctor pleaded, looking to Stryker. He had a photo of Adanya, complete with her medical bio and a file of information on his desk. She hadn't seen a doctor since the tender age of five, not even a dentist or optometrist. "We need to run tests, see if we can replicate the mutation."

"She's not behaving as well as I'd like her to." Stryker relented, scowling. "She's been impossible, she can't stand him," Behind him, Zero looked from face to face for a hint or sign of who "he" was.

The doctor with the gingery red beard scuffed the floor with a wingtip shoe. "A viable sample is essential to our..." He stopped short at the cold look of fury on Stryker's face.

"I know that," Stryker spit. "You think I don't know what's necessary for my own goddamn research?"

"It can't be that hard to get her alone with him, can it?" A slim, brunette in a skirt and blouse looked up from the dissection she was watching. "They're both attractive, I'm sure you could arrange something." She flipped her ponytail back. "He's not about to pass up an attractive girl, he'll pursue her for the right price."

"We'll need to examine her," Another chimed. "Beforehand, if possible, to ensure her capability."

"Of course." Stryker nodded. "Prepare room five, she'll be here within the hour." He indicated the door. "Carol, if you would."

"Sir?" Zero watched the blonde doctor nod, setting aside her work.

"Ask me no questions, I'll tell you no lies, Zero."

* * *

Attempt number nine proved successful; Adanya Winters was the proud seamstress of a pair of dark blue bell-bottom jeans with four pockets and a neat row of buttons where the zipper ought to be, because pounding the tack buttons was much more therapeutic than sewing in a zipper. She displayed her pants proudly to anyone who cared to look, and began to clear up her scraps and supplies, leaving her knitting needles out with a double skein of hunter green yarn. Somehow, everyone had reconvened in the common room to watch a baseball game on the TV.

Zero appeared a moment or so before Stryker, smiling unpleasantly.

"Adanya, this is Doctor Carol Frost." Stryker all but pushed her into the room; she knew them, and they knew her, nobody liked to admit it.

"Hello," She threw the doctor a look over her shoulder, folding a sheet of denim, careful to crease it.

"Hello Adanya," She pasted on a warm, winning smile. "I'm sure we're going to get along nicely."

"You are going with her for an examination." Stryker announced, the same way he announced they were leaving on a mission, or heading out for some reason or another.

"There's nothing to examine, I'm perfectly healthy and able." She wiggled her fingertips. "Bye Doctor Frost."

"Adanya,"

"I had a check up before I came here, I'm fine." She lied, though she was fine. "Haven't even had a cold in months. I'm as healthy as they come." She laid the parcel of cotton prints alongside the stack of plain, each parcel labeled with a color.

"Adanya,"

"No thank you," She turned her back on him deliberately, her skirt swishing against her legs as she tucked away spools of thread. Behind her, she heard scuffling as someone stood up.

"Adanya, _now_."

"_No_," She replied, her eyes darkening. She didn't like that tone.

"It's standard procedure." He pressed, in a cold and formal voice that always got him results. "March."

Her fingers froze, wrapped around a pair of scissors she used for cutting threads. "I said no," She stopped clearing up her things and turned around, staring at him with cold eyes. "I don't know her, she isn't my doctor, and _I'm not going_."

"_Adanya_," Stryker's voice took on a bitter, Arctic chill. "You will do as you are told."

"Not. Happening." Her hands tightened. Wade felt something, something odd and oily, creeping over the space between them. Stryker's eyes went wide, perhaps a little scared. Zero made a quiet noise under his breath, and Stryker's eyes swung from Adanya to the Asian. He shifted his gaze to the closet door to his immediate left. "You and your quack can both shove it,"

Stryker relaxed. "Observe, gentlemen, how to deal with an unruly child."

"Up yours," Adanya spit, setting down her scissors, crossing her arms under her breasts. "You can't make me do _anything_," She spoke with true teenage indifference, the epitome of female rebellion.

"Sir?" Zero inquired, in a honeyed tone that set Wade's hair on end. Almost loving, like a star-struck teenage girl addressing her idol.

"Open the door, Zero," The closet door swung open harmlessly enough, but Stryker may as well have put a gun to Adanya's forehead. She lost any semblance of attitude instantly, her lips gaping stupidly.

"What do you see?" She broke into a fit of nervous motion, shuffling around the sewing table restlessly, looking anywhere but at Stryker or Zero. Logan saw her palm a pair of pinking shears with trembling fingers, keeping well away from any of them.

"Just a closet, sir." A tiny smile played around his mouth, a joke only he was privy to. He stepped aside, a hand extended toward the open door. "How about you, Adanya?" For the first time in recorded history, he addressed her by name. "What do you _see_?"

The shears fell from her slack hand. "No!" She stared at Stryker, wide-eyed, horrified. "No," She could barely breathe, the room swirling around her. As though he held her on a lead and was pulling her in, Adanya walked around the table, standing a few feet away from him. "_Please_," Tears came to her eyes, her hands twisted the front of her skirt, she bit her lower lip hard enough to draw blood.

The television switched off, and Stryker held captive the audience he craved, once again proving his dominance. Victor, who'd stood up earlier, came around and leaned on the chair he'd been sitting in, watching with gentle amusement curling his lip.

"What," The tiny smile became a wide, cocky, mocking grin of righteous satisfaction. "Do you see?"

"No," Adanya shook her head, eyes wide, backing up a few steps. "No, _please_." She backed into Victor, who shoved her forward viciously. "Please don't do this, I didn't mean it, I'll go, I swear!" She landed hard on hands and knees, giving Stryker the perfect opportunity to snatch a handful of hair at the back of her neck, dragging her over the floor like an oversized doll.

"No!" She clawed at his arms like a child. "Stop it, let me go, let go!" Stryker dragged her to the open door, hauling her up roughly. "Please, please, I'll be good, please!" Her words gave way to a long, sharp cry of terror when he threw her in, the door closing behind her. She screamed again, a long anguished howl the door barely muffled. Wade was up and over the couch in an instant, but kept his place when Stryker held up a hand.

"Are you going to behave?" Stryker stood just outside, speaking to the crack between the door and the frame.

"Yes, yes, let me out!" She shrieked; they could hear her clawing and scratching at the door, but the knob didn't even jiggle. "Please,"

"I'm not sure I believe you," Stryker replied cordially.

"Please, please, I'll be good, I swear, please," The lost little voice in the closet was sobbing. "Let me out, please."

"Good girls do not sass their superiors, Adanya." His voice took on an edge. "Good girls know when to keep their mouths closed, correct?"

"Yes," She wailed pathetically. "Yes, please open the door!"

"Good girls are obedient and respectful, correct?" He impounded, pressing her for every scream, every sob, every sniffle and tear and whine. Every bit of her weakness, to draw out the beasts, to train them. Slowly, the all rose from their places and came to watch, like a pack of pups watching the alpha take down a doe, learning.

"Yes," The sobs were quieting, although it sounded like anything but peace.

"Do you see what happens to bad girls, Adanya?" Stryker took a few steps back, looking at the door. His voice was the only sound in the room, save for the undertone of whimpers. "Do you understand what will happen if you behave like a bad girl?"

She yelped again, they could hear scrabbling, like she was fighting to get up on her feet. "God, let me out!" She kicked the door, shrieking. "Please, please, let me out, I'll be good, I'll do what I'm told." The screams dissolved into sobbing. "_Please_, _please, God, please_,"

A look of obscene glory lit up Stryker's face; he knew right where she was. "Look in front of you, Adanya."

She cut loose with a scream that would have had a banshee keel over in shame. Higher and higher, a full-throated, animalistic keen of utmost horror, choking down to a shallow, painful whimper before another howl took it's place, frantic scrabbling against the walls and floor, screaming and scratching and scraping sounds all intermingling from that tiny little closet, hidden by the door.

It went through all of them like a knife, Wraith lurching forward only to be stopped by Dukes, pale and sweaty, with an arm across his chest. Even Victor, who confessed that it was among the sweetest sounds, like an angelic choir, a taste of true auditory ecstasy, looked deeply disturbed.

The aria of her screaming rose, higher and higher in pitch until it was silent to human ears, but attracted a chorus of howling dogs from someplace on base. She howled again, something that might have been a prayer in another life, and fell silent.

Logan's blood ran to ice; he couldn't hear her breathing, couldn't hear her heart beating. Everything had stopped, in mid beat, with the silence.

"Open the door, Zero, and let her out." Stryker was almost laughing as Zero complied, opening the door. Adanya was huddled in the far corner, staring at the wall with wide, blank eyes. Zero reached in and jerked her out, letting her fall again like a rag doll. She started breathing again, a choked, gurgling sound, when the light hit her face.

Jimmy could see the veins in her throat pulsing erratically, the frantic tattoo of blood pounding under the surface, the harsh beat of uneven, hyperventilating breath. She lay on the floor, convulsing, twitching and jerking spasmodically, fighting for every breath as fiercely as she fought for sanity. Her hands were bloody, fingertips and knuckles alike. The open door bore long gouges in sets of four, level with the knob and down. Why hadn't she tried opening it? Stryker walked around her, giving her a moment to compose herself, blood spattering the floor with each harsh breath, both from her hands and her mouth, as she'd bitten her tongue at some point.

"Do you understand, Adanya, why you must behave?" Stryker looked down on her, a primitive little creature under glass, sub-human specimen of curiosity.

Adanya lifted her head. "Don't put me back in there," She clawed at his ankle desperately, sobbing harshly, reaching for his hand. "Please don't put me back in there," He kicked her away, and she curled in on herself, her hands digging into her hair, like stark white spiders against a chocolate brown canvas

Victor'd never seen anything more pathetic. Behind him, Bradley dropped to his knee, swallowing back the urge to vomit. Frost wasn't quite as disciplined; they could all hear her retching noisily into a garbage can outside the door. Dukes, the poor soul, looked as lost as the one sock in the dryer without a mate.

"I don't enjoy punishing you," He lied easily, looking down at her. "But you have to be disciplined."

"Yes," She let her head drop again, her forehead pressed to the smooth concrete.

"Are you going to disrespect me again?" He tugged on her hair; jerking hard enough to made a statement.

"No," She drew herself up, kneeling, still hunched over. Her hands were clasped as though someone had tied her wrists together, held tight to her chest, and she was rocking slightly, whimpering and sniffling and sobbing piteously, blood oozing from her hands.

"Now," He spoke quietly to the top of her head. "Are you going to behave yourself and act like a decent young lady, or should we put you back in?"

"_No_," She fell forward again, beginning to hyperventilate. "Please," She took a lurching half crawl forward, her limbs shaking too much for her to do anything else.

"That is not an answer, Adanya." Victor felt something curdle in his guts. "Are you going to behave, or do you need to be punished?" Even Zero began to look perturbed. "Answer me quickly, or I'll be very disappointed in you."

"I'll be good," Her shaking arms threatened to give out again. "Please don't put me back there," She knelt up, looking up at him. "I'll be good." It was a sweet mercy her hair was long enough to cover her face, or half the room would have died of shame.

"That's what I hoped," He lied, stroking a hand over her hair, treating her like a well-behaved pet. "Carol?" Frost came back to the door, looking terrified. "I believe Adanya is ready to cooperate." He took his hand away, looking at her expectantly.

She stood up on shaking, weak legs, taking a few tottering steps toward Doctor Frost, Stryker's hand firm on her back. She held her balance all of ten seconds, collapsing against Frost like a limpet, her arms tight around the other woman's waist, sobbing into her lab coat, ruining the perfect white with a splash of gory red. Frost went down with her, maternal instinct taking over military training, holding the shaking, sobbing girl close to her heart, petting her hair, onlookers be damned.

"Shh, shh, we're not going to hurt you," She wrapped her arms around the poor, petrified girl. "Nobody's gonna hurt you, we're not gonna hurt you." She held the girl tighter, smoothing down the messy curls, darker than her stepdaughter's hair. "We just have to make sure you're okay,"

"Doctor Frost, you have orders to examine the girl, not coddle her."

Another white-coated man appeared in the door. "She's not Emma, Carol, you can't pretend it's going to help."

Frost stiffened visibly. "She's terrified," She spoke in careful, measured tones. "And if she finds a scalpel or a piece of string, she's useless to us." She twisted around, taking Adanya with her. "You seem to forget, Kevin, that our patients get very creative when they get desperate." She tightened her grip on Adanya. "Do you want to help her, or do you want to watch her destroy herself to spite us?"

"She will obey." Stryker watched her let go of Frost, curling back in on herself. It pleased him greatly, really to no end, that she'd never called for help. Not once. If only Malcolm had known how his idea of punishing her would end. Poor bastard.

"Does it even work when she's upset?" Frost stood, leaving Adanya on the floor. "Can she perform under stressful stimuli? Does adrenaline affect her sensory perception?" Adanya kept her hands together, elbows tucked into her stomach, curled on the floor at Carol's feet. Blood dripped from her mouth to her knees, painting the floor.

"That is what you are paid to unearth." Stryker spat. "Adanya!" She jumped, picking herself up quickly, standing behind Frost. Her balance was just as precarious as before, perhaps even more so, her knees shaking. Frost gave Stryker a long, withering stare, but turned back to Adanya without a word.

"Come along, Adanya." Carol slipped an arm around her, directing her to the hall. "It won't be as terrible as you think." She led the trembling girl out past Keith, who followed them, whistling. Adanya looked back over her shoulder once, still sobbing.

"What," Wade gaped at Stryker. "The fuck," He stared at the door Adanya had been escorted through, down the empty hallway. "Was that?" Finally, his gaze came to rest on the empty, seemingly harmless, coat closet. Scariest thing in there were a pair of someone's old loafers.

Stryker gave him a mocking, oily smile. "Home training." He followed their path, walking out the door and leaving his team stunned and silent.

For a bunch of hard-core, meat-grinder trained mercenaries; the room was filled with a hushed, silent stillness. None of them lifted a hand to help 'their girl' as she was jokingly referred to, and none of them were exactly sure why. Victor looked faintly ill, either at the hysterics or the fact that the screaming hadn't done a damn thing for him. Dukes lumbered over to the closet, slamming the door shut with a sharp finality. Come hell or high water, he'd rip the fucking doors off all the fucking hinges in the goddamn building before he'd ever stand by and hear a girl scream like that again. Wraith 'ported away, mumbling about needing a drink. Bradley shuffled along numbly after Dukes and Victor, like tail that had forgotten how to wag.

Slowly, the room cleared until it was just Wade and Logan watching the door as though something would pop out and explain Adanya to them, some mystical force could wave a hand and make everything better. Boy gets girl, girl goes home, evil men drop dead of horribly painful injuries; happy endings all around.

"You like her, Wade?" Logan broke the silence, addressing the youth with a loaded question to distract them both from the reality of what had happened. Different, when it was supposed to be one of your own, wasn't it?

"What did they do to her?" Wade looked startlingly human, staring at spatters of Adanya's blood on the floor.

* * *

I hope this makes a bit of sense; it was written disjointed kinda for a reason; it's how I felt writing this one. Depending on the feel of the chapter, is how it comes out as being written.

Um, in Adanya's memory/flashback/in her thoughts moment, I switched up with regular print and italics for dialogue. I know it could be a bit disconcerting, but I think straight italics are sometimes harder to read than regular/_italic _mix. If anyone has a suggestion, or thinks I should go straight italics for the next scene like that, please let me know.

Expect some upcoming fluff, (probably between Wade and Anya) because I've been watching parts of a movie called "Untamed Heart" and I'm really digging it. (sigh) Christian Slater…_me-ow purr_**.** I'm gonna try to keep it from being OOC, but at the same time, I want to explore the attraction of a non-bimbo for Wade. (We all know those Weapon X-er's didn't spend their free time reading books. Bunch of man-hoes, and I'm not talking about the garden tools)

That bit between Adanya and Victor was meant to border on the sort of erotica all us fangirls squeal over, and was thrown in for unsigned reviewer "Lauren" who asked for some bonding between the two, even if he gave her right back to Stryker in the end.

And I will be explaining Adanya's aversions to sex, nudity, men, doctors, bare skin, etc. I know why (because she's my character) but I'd like to hear some theories if anyone feels up to taking a _stab_ at it. Hope nobody loses their _head_. (yeah, that was really bad, but it's also a _hint_)

As always, I love and appreciate any and all feedback; you guys rock.


	6. Chapter 6

Adanya looked stoned, slumped in the wheelchair like a marionette with strings cut. There was a large purple bruise in the crook of her right elbow, a band-aid taped in place over the center. She wore the shapeless, generic red scrubs they used for exams, her brown and white Oxfords on her lap. They'd cut her hair too, what had fallen past her waist was now bobbed unevenly near her jaw, springy corkscrew spirals that framed her face. A long, nasty red scratch ran over her left cheek, bridged her nose and ended just past her lip on the right.

Frost was pushing the wheelchair; following Stryker and Zero, her forehead creased with worry lines.

"What the hell…" Bradley froze, swallowing hard when he saw Adanya. None of them had ever looked so roughed up when they came back from the medics. Then again, none of them were girls and none of them threw tantrums like her either. Except maybe Wade.

"She killed six men when they tried to remove her blouse," Pride was distinct in Strkyer's voice. "Another dozen paralyzed when they strapped her to the table, but we've managed to put a cap on her, ah _talents_." Frost gave him a hateful look. "Put her to bed, Carol, I expect her to be awake and refreshed for the morning." He turned on his heel and left, with Zero trailing after.

Frost cursed heartily under her breath, her eyes troubled, beginning to wonder if any of this, anything at all, was worth trying to 'fix' Emma's headaches and sudden bursts of diamond radiance. The shoes fell with a dull thud when Adanya stood, wobbling slightly, still tanked with the drugs they fed into her arm to keep her sedate. Carol looked wavy through her eyes, like looking through a pane of cheap glass.

"Adanya, these are low-grade pain pills," She pressed the small bottle into a slack hand. "Take _one_," Frost stressed the word. "When the pain gets too intense. It's a very low dosage, even if you took them all at once you couldn't suicide, but I'd rather not have to pump your stomach. Understand?"

She nodded, her head feeling heavy. "Yes, ma'am." Her voice took on a soft, childish timbre.

"Adanya," Frost held her by her shoulders, staring at her intently. "Do you understand me?"

"Yes, ma'am." She nodded again, her glassy eyes unfocused.

"Adanya," Frost adopted a softer, motherly tone. "Do you need me to stay with you?"

"No ma'am."

"Do you need me to help you change your clothes?" Her arm looked tender where they'd run the IV, a blotchy purple-brown bruise pucked in her elbow.

"No ma'am, thank you." She disappeared into her room, closing the door quietly. Frost waited a moment, forehead wrinkled, debating whether or not she ought to walk in and help anyway. She chewed her nails, ruining her peachy Avon lipstick, staring at the door until it opened again.

Adanya stepped out, dressed in another of her sweater sets and a skirt, her short hair held back with purple plastic combs. Frost took a step back when Adanya brushed past her, going back to the sewing table, picking up what little remained. Her sweater was unevenly buttoned, her stockings weren't quite properly fastened, her shoes weren't tied; Frost was taken aback that she'd even managed to dress herself well enough to say so. She set her pill bottle aside and began clearing what was left of her sewing scraps.

Carol watched the girl, sorting and rearranging things, everything where she'd left it that afternoon. "I'll just go." She studied the pill bottle on the table, wondering if Adanya would be smart enough to polish off the bottle in one sitting. Odd, though, she wondered as she walked away, that Adanya would keep the pills with her instead of setting them down in her room to take them in private.

"What the hell is she doing?" Wraith watched her scurry about the kitchen, putting things away and straightening the countertop clutter.

"What she's been taught," Logan's voice shook with a mixture of rage and pity. "Her home training." They watched her a moment longer, hands trembling. She rearranged the countertop, then put everything back where she found it, then moved it all around again. Her breath came in short gasps, while her hands smoothed over her skirt, palm over palm, like she was trying to iron out some invisible wrinkle. "They knock you down, you get back up and do it twice as fast." It left a bitter, ashy taste in his mouth. "Don't talk back, don't complain, don't make a fucking peep; just get your ass up and do what you're told."

Wraith's gaze was heavy with pity. "Adanya," She turned around, wide-eyed. "Sit." He pointed to the couch. She nodded, scooping up her pills as she walked, stepping out of her shoes an moment before she touched the arm of the couch. She sat, ankles crossed, bottle in her hands, watching Jimmy and waiting for instruction. He stared at her, picking up on a strange and bitter scent, acrid and tart. Her pupils were dilated; she'd gone from glassy-eyed to alert shockingly quickly.

"Give me those," Wraith took the pills from her, shaking a couple into his palm. If they had to, they'd drug her to sleep. "She lied," Wraith set down the bottle. "These'll knock Victor on his ass, don't you let me catch you poppin' one." One could put her to sleep for a week, but the bottle was full-up, as though Frost wanted her to overdose.

"Do you ever see a little boy?" She laced her fidgeting fingers, staring around at them. "Do you?" She looked from face to face, searching everywhere for an answer. Absently, she sniffled and her nose twitched.

"What?" Victor stared back at her, matching her anxious curiosity with an obnoxious snarl.

"Have you ever seen a little boy running around?" Her ankles uncrossed and crossed, fidgety. She didn't want to sit still; there was so much she had to get done.

"No," Logan and Victor exchanged a look. "Why?"

"When they put in the room, I thought I felt Jason's color again," Her hands twisted in her lap. "I almost knew where he was," She dropped her eyes, looking up again slowly. "I thought I heard him calling me sunny girly," Even if she was crazy, she could still be charming.

"They don't keep kids around here, Addy," Chris gazed at her pityingly. "You had a rough night, maybe you just need some sleep."

"About six or seven, brown hair, his eyes don't match, one's blue and one's…" Her voice trailed off quietly. "You think I'm crazy," Her eyes went wide and stark. "You think I'm crazy,"

"I didn't say that," Wraith took an instinctive step back, ready to 'port behind her and take her down easy if he had to.

"You all think I'm crazy, because they put me in the closet," She stood, her voice rising. "You don't _know_, none of you know!" She backpedaled around the couch, wrapping her arms around herself. "You don't know what's in there!" In the far corners of her brain, she knew it sounded like the script from a bad movie, but she didn't care. "You don't understand." She threw her hands out as thought trying to explain the simplicity of two plus two. "You don't get it, you're all so fu—frickin' stupid!" The drugs in her system fought against each other, fighting her biokinesis, everything churning.

"Aw, don't cry, it'll make everything weird." Wade appeared in front of her, though she hadn't realized where or when he'd gotten up. The room tilted and spiraled like a kaleidoscope, the upper fighting against the downer in her blood.

"Don't _touch_ me!" She shrank down further into the wall. _Your body is like a sheet of white linen, Adanya; everyone who touches you leaves a grubby black handprint, and nobody wants a soiled sheet on their bed, do they?_

"No ma'am," Absently she shook her head, answering a question no one else had heard. "Nobody wants that," She shook her head numbly. "No,"

"Hey," Wade looked…kind, reaching out to her, crouching on level with her. "Anya, it's okay, it's just me,"

"I don't like being touched, I just want to go _home_." Somewhere, in the lull of background murmurs, she heard someone offer _"Where the fuck is Stryker when he needs to see this shit?" _She darted from her corner, seeking protection against the far wall, beside the countertop littered with pots and pans._  
_

"Anya," He was closer, his hand a couple inches away from her arm.

She flattened herself against the counter. "Please don't," She inched back further away, keeping her gaze on him. "I don't like being touched,"

"Yeah, I caught that," He moved closer, drawing a sharp, high-pitched squeal from Adanya. "Calm down!" She picked up a big cast-iron skillet, from one of the few times someone had tried to cook, and hefted it like a bat, her eyes narrowed.

"Don't make me do it," Her arms trembled, but she stood firm. "I don't wanna," She'd whacked Marshall with a frying pan, it wasn't pretty or nice at all, but it bought her time to get away.

"Hey, it's okay." He took a half step closer. "It's just me," Wade kept his hands up, well within her line of vision. "You know me, Anya," He was taming her; the little pissant was _taming_ her! Logan felt his blood start to heat. "It's okay, I won't touch you."

"Watch that ninja shit, Wade, she'll take your balls off." Bradley was up and off his chair in record time, hovering near the table. "She'll kill you this time,"

"She will not, she _likes_ me." He ducked a wild swing second before she made impact with the side of his face. "Dammit, Anya!"

"I can see how she's just in love with you," Chris teased.

"Get away from me!" Wade ducked another wild swing that connected with the refrigerator, leaving a nice dent in the freezer door.

"Trust me not to hurt you, Anya," A strange, almost needy sort of pause. "_Trust me_."

"I don't want any more scars," She whispered, her grip on the skillet tightening. "I'm _not_ taming any more tigers," Her voice cracked. "I want to call my Daddy and go home." Her voice dropped, like she'd forgotten why she was upset. "I don't want to play anymore,"

"Anya," He took another half step closer, watching her hands warily. "Just be cool, calm down,"

"He didn't apologize," She threw a short look toward the closet door. "He didn't apologize, he didn't tell me _why_," She didn't put up a fight when Wade lunged, jerking the skillet from her easily. "I need a telephone," She darted past him nimbly, heading for the door. Wraith appeared in front of her and she fell back gracelessly, landing on her butt, eyes wide. She'd forgotten about the others.

"You're not supposed to wander," He stood between her and the door, sentry like. "You ain't in a state to be runnin' the halls, someone's gonna find you and I guarantee it ain't gonna end up bein' any good."

"I need to find a telephone." She got up on her knees, gauging the space between his body and the door. "I have to call my dad."

"It's not safe to walk around like that," He moved with her, blocking any sort of escape she could plan.

In her head, she froze him in place. "I need him." She was down the hall like a flicker of light, silent in stocking feet.

"Like a damn ghost," Wraith hadn't felt her brush past him, or felt the phantom force freeze him in place. It was almost like she'd paused time and darted past before he could hit play.

"She's a spook alright," Wade ran after her, his own booted feet unexplainably silent on the bare concrete.

* * *

She'd left the door open, just a couple inches, to listen for someone coming. There weren't telephones anyplace in the open; she had to break into Stryker's office, which was surprisingly easy without having a hairpin to jam into the lock, or a screwdriver to pop the door off the hinges.

"Malcolm Winters, please," The operator had a cool, slick voice; it was almost comforting in a serene, manufactured way. "Yes, I can wait." She whispered, biting her thumbnail. "Yes, please, it's very urgent, this is his daughter Adanya," Her voice cracked over her name. "He's left? Has he gone home?" The cool, slick voice wasn't nearly as pleasant anymore. "Thank you," She leaned back against the wall, feeling dizzy.

She dialed again, her fingers numb, hoping against hope he'd gone to their little house on Andell Lane, even for a night, and haven't taken off for a warmer climate. The last time she'd spoken to him, she'd been patched through six times to reach a line in Trinidad, and he'd offered to come home to collect her, keep her with him for a while.

"Daddy?" Silence greeted her inquiry. "Daddy, it's Adanya, please pick up." The answering machine wasn't as fun as it had been when they'd first installed it, and they'd spent an afternoon calling home to test it. "I know it's late, but if you're home I really need you to pick up." She slid down the wall, her knees on level with her eyes. "Please pick up the phone, please."

* * *

"I have always found the training of children to be rewarding," Stryker lingered behind his desk in the medical wing, rereading the information Frost had been able to glean on Adanya's physical well being. She was, apparently, in perfect condition to continue with their program.

"Sir?" Zero stood off to his left, ready and able to attack, completely on point while he looked bored and relaxed.

"Wade and Adanya both, such precocious children, don't you think?" Their files lay open, side-by-side, on his desk. "We'll begin her work tomorrow," He closed Wade's file and set it aside. "She'll spend most of her time with me, of course, to better control her outbursts," He rolled his eyes mockingly. "So much undone by so little time away," He made a note in the corner of the page, near her profile photo. "So much temper,"

"What's she here for?" Zero was perfectly blunt. "She's uselessly emotional, she's undisciplined, and she's a brat."

"Her abilities are rather unique; I don't think I've ever met another young woman capable of her…skills. If nothing else, Zero, she can enhance the rest of you to peak performance, stay in the labs when I send you out."

"What are they doing with her in the lab, sir?" He couldn't help but be a little curious, none of them spent so much time in the lab as Wade, and it sounded like Adanya was up for second place.

"We've found that one of the most troublesome part of mutant research, Zero, is running out of specimens. They're always testing the same batch of samples, they need fresh materials, raw elements from which we can reconfigure the database." She was perfect, in a sense, untouched and unaware of the workings of the female body. Bless those women, for teaching her fear. Unless someone told her, she'd never know. "We may not need Wade after all, if this works to our favor."

"Sir?"

"There are mutants all over the world, with mutations similar to Adanya's," His mouth curled. "Most of them men, none as powerful or capable." She was a hellcat, but her prowess seemed limitless, her temper easily remedied. "Do you know why Adanya is so special to me, Zero?"

"Why?"

"Because she's the perfect female specimen." He gave a faint, sinister smile. "To compliment my perfect soldier,"

"Sir," He felt himself growing cold.

"It's been attempted before, with _several_ different carriers," He made a note. "Different ages, races; human and mutant alike. Problem is, none of them could manage to survive the procedures, none of them recovered quickly enough. Too many accidents, too many infections, so many of them died before they could prove useful." Carefully, her papers were tucked back inside the manila file, stamped and signed, tucked into a briefcase. "They tried shape shifters, regenerators, feral and domestic alike; none of them stood the test of time." He snapped the case shut. "And now we have Adanya." He stepped around Zero, heading for his office.

"You're going to…breed them, sir?" Zero felt something tugging at his guts, something strange and foreign. It felt like what pity looked like, and it scared him. He didn't enjoy the sensation.

A sharp, cunning smile over his shoulder was all the answer Stryker gave.

* * *

Wade, after walking the halls in all the buildings and harassing several people on the way, walked out to the docks. Adanya was sitting on the edge, talking to herself, knees to her chest and head down. There was a trail down one hallway, of slightly bloody footprints, and a smattering of broken glass in Stryker's office, the trail leading out and growing fainter, little splashes on the ground, leading to the lake and the dock.

"Is this going to be our place?" He dropped her shoes beside her, sitting down.

"I beg your pardon?" Adanya stared at him, reaching for her shoes. Her feet hurt and her stockings were ruined.

"You run, I chase you, we meet on the dock." He leaned back on his hands, easy and relaxed. "Is this our secret rendezvous now?"

"I didn't ask you to look for me." She pulled on her shoes, lacing them up tightly.

"I know," His feet skimmed the water, ripples spreading out toward the moon, reflected in the water. "But everyone else is too busy feeling guilty for not rescuing you earlier, and it's bringing me down. They aren't any fun when they're sulky, nobody even tries to shut me up." He scowled at her prettily. She was beginning to think that ugly did not and could not exist on his face.

"I never asked anyone to save me," Her voice was a bit harsher than she'd meant it to be, but Wade wasn't bothered.

"I think that's the problem," He gave a short laugh. "We're used to damsels in distress, not silent chicks who scream it out and submit. Well, maybe Victor,"

"Why are you here?"

"You don't make any sort of sense, I don't make sense at all." He threw a lazy glance her way. "Together we kinda make sense."

She stared at him. "Is that supposed to make sense?"

"No," Deftly, he sat up and tugged the combs from her hair.

"Stop playing with my hair," She batted his hands away, taking the combs back and stowing them in a sweater pocket.

"It looks funny," Wade pulled a curl, straightening it to full length, and let it spring back. "You don't look right with short hair,"

"I always kept it longer, my dad likes long hair on girls." She tugged on the short locks. "Davis said it was an interference,"

"He's a prick," Wade waved his hand airily. "He doesn't like anyone, you know he always tries to stick his finger up my ass whenever I have an exam?" He ignored Adanya's blush and continued. "I mean, I'm all for trying new things but it gets old after the first nineteen "turn your head and cough" routines, you know? And he always 'forgets' to put his gloves on," He looked at her, barely turning his head. "You could smile, you know, that was supposed to be funny."

"How do you _do_ that?" He pointed at her, like she knew what he was looking at. "You get so quiet and look so fucking young and innocent and thoughtful, it's distracting as all hell, Anya," He twitched his nose at her, with some dexterity, as he'd never done it before. "And you do that all the damn time, it's so cute I think you're giving us diabetes."

"I'm sorry," She looked put-down again, as though her entire self-worth depended on their opinion.

"Don't," He wagged a finger in her face. "I mean it, don't you start crying."

"I'm sorry," Absently, she wiped her face and sniffed. "It's just hard sometimes."

"God," He smiled again, charming and beautiful. "What am I going to do with you?"

"Leave me alone," She offered, tugging on her cuffs.

"There you go again, leave me alone, don't touch me, I don't like people," He mimicked her in a high, squeaky voice. "I'm starting to think you're being miss anti-social so I'll pay attention to you,"

She stood, kicking at his side. "If all you're going to do is insult me,"

"Sit your ass down," He pulled her down hard, nearly onto his lap but for her reflexes. "You're going to talk to me, whether you like it or not, Miss Winters, and I'm going to figure you out."

"Or what?" She scowled, crouched on her hands and knees.

"Or we both sit here all night." She sat back, tucking her legs underneath her, shivering despite the warmth of the night air. "Which is probably not the best of ideas because between you, me, and the Pentagon; Jimmy likes to run around naked when he thinks nobody's looking." She broke into a small smile. "See? Was that so hard?"

* * *

They sat for an hour in near silence, broken up with the occasional candy jingle or TV theme; Wade provided the clue and Adanya tried to answer. She was six of ten, missing most of the soap opera themes she wasn't allowed to watch, but she scored well on candy. He was proud; she knew every game show and sitcom theme he threw at her.

"You're being really sweet, you know?" She fidgeted; drawing her legs up to her chest, making sure her skirt was tucked in properly so he couldn't see anything. "You're not dissecting me, when we both know you can." She stole a glance at him, impish and beautiful in the moonlight. He was a strange, gorgeous mixture of boyish good looks and a wickedly malevolent sense of humor.

"Shh, don't tell anyone else." He threw her a conspirational wink. "Kinda got a thing going,"

"Huh," She went back to quietly chewing on her thumbnail.

"So what's with you and the closet? Scared of the dark?"

She fidgeted, looking thoroughly uncomfortable. "Did your dad ever teach you about patriotism?" She didn't wait for an answer. "Well, mine always taught me that it's not enough to know about what happened, you have to know what's being done for you." She bit her nail again, feeling little and weak in the face of her memories. "He'd tell me it's not enough to know it happened, you have to know what's being done. He said men went off and fought wars to protect little girls like me," She shrugged; none of her girlfriends had ever understood it either. "He said they had to…they had to stop bad people, even if it meant killing them, to protect the good, innocent people."

"Babe, nobody's innocent." Wade interjected. "They just haven't been caught yet."

"He said there were evil, nasty, wicked, immoral women in far off places that did nasty things to men," Her mouth twisted. "They gave men diseases and seduced them with their bodies, and made them turn against each other. They were bad, evil men and women and they had to be stopped." She looked at him with wide eyes. "He told me, he said they were going to come here, to America, and kidnap little girls like me, and make us into _whores_." Her voice dropped. "So they had to, they just had to stop them, before they could hurt anybody else."

Wade had the distinct feeling that her 'education' had a farther range than prostitution alone, but kept his peace.

"When he got home, he put everything away, in a closet, so my mother didn't have to see it." She nodded. "It was bad enough she had to live through not knowing if he'd come home, he never left out his war stuff. He put it all away in the closet in his office, and the door was always locked except for three reasons." She looked to make sure he was still listening. "If he was telling me about the wars, or if some of his friends had come over, or if he was punishing me."

"When I was bad, he put me in the closet." She bit her thumbnail again, looking away. "He never said I'd end up like the…the things he kept in there, but he made me go in." Tears were in her voice, as well as her eyes. "So I wouldn't be bad anymore, so I'd behave and app…app…appreciate everything that had been done for me, like a _good girl_."

"So, let me get this straight, Anya," Wade turned her, bodily, to face him. "The guy you're so crazy about, seeing as how you tried to kill me for insulting him, used to lock you in a closet." She nodded, wiping her eyes. "He scared the hell out of you regularly with that shit, and you still go the mat for him, every time." He stared at her, small and pale in the moonlight, and felt like slapping her and kissing her at the same time. "And you don't like me?"

"He's my dad,"

"That makes it better?" Wade nearly howled. "Mine was just an alcoholic, but Jesus Christ…"

"I know." She looked at him, her sad face like a crucifixion angel.

"What?" His neck creaked; he whipped his head around so quickly.

"My dad knew your dad," She revealed quietly. "I went to the funereal."

"You were the girl in the purple dress," There couldn't be that many girls in the world with maroon eyes. For the whole five minutes he'd been there, she was the one thing that drew his attention from the coffin and flowers. The only other person, he'd noted wryly, not crying or bothering to look miserable. She'd looked as bored as him.

"Uh-huh," A light lavender summer dress, with a darker wisteria shawl. "Saw you before though, at some stupid Christmas party." She was eight, decked out in ruby with white trim; he'd worn black pants with a white shirt and a vest; they were both miserable, the only "children" there, expected to be quiet, obedient, perfect examples of military children. There was too much starch in his collar, and she'd spent the evening cramming her face with cookie after cookie to hold back what she wanted to say when those snooty women offered backhanded compliments on her 'unusual eyes' and 'unique' name. "I wasn't allowed to talk to you, but I wanted to." She looked at him shyly, same as she had that night whenever she caught him looking at her. "I saw your dad hit you, I wanted to ask why."

"Because he's an ass."

"They never told me, how did he die?" She stole a glance at him.

"I killed him."

* * *

"So you like my hair longer?" She ran her fingers through it ruefully. It was a pain sometimes, but long hair was stylish and feminine and she could do so many things with it. Sometimes it was just nicer to change the subject.

"Yeah,"

"Tell me when," In a moment, the short curls began to grow longer, stretching from tight corkscrews to long swirls. She let it go to her waist and stopped, shaking it out to remind herself how it felt to be long.

"Your power is weird,"

"I just accelerated the growth," She shrugged; using it for simple things was as normal as breathing. "I can do that, you know. Turn things on, shut things off, make cells faster or slower, stronger or weaker," He touched her hair curiously, his hand lingering near her cheek, knuckles brushing her skin ever so gently. "Please don't do that," The scratch on her face had vanished, closed up as neatly as the cuts on her feet.

"You're afraid of me, aren't you?" His tone was amused. "Poor Anya, you afraid of little ol' me? I'm harmless, ask anyone."

Adanya smiled in spite of herself. "I'm scared of everybody." She inched away only to be pulled closer, flush to his side.

"No, it's more than that." She frowned, putting a gap of six inches between them with some consternation, refusing to let herself be dominated. "You're afraid of men." He sat up, scooting closer. "You have control issues, centered around a fear of your own sexuality." His voice took on a deeper, almost seductive resonance.

"So you're a psychologist, but you never finished high school?" Her breathing was shallow, a light flush warming her skin.

"Who told you…" He looked a bit outraged.

"Stryker," She shrugged, picking at the cuffs of her sweater. "He talked to me, when they gave me the drugs, he told me about you guys," She lied; the one-sided conversation had centered on Wade.

"What drugs?" He wasn't ever drugged for an exam, but then again, he'd never flipped out over being trapped in a closet.

"Sedatives," She lifted her arm, peeling back the sweater sleeve. Several red pinpricks were visible along the length of her forearm, almost arrow-like up to her bruise. "I killed people tonight." Six men that Stryker saw, another four that tried to take off her clothes, nine others that held her to the bed; the one idiot brave enough to push her skirt up past her knees exploded in a wash of bone and blood that spattered everyone and everything in the vicinity. In the end, Frost slipped her a sedative and started an IV for the duration, though she underestimated Adanya's sneak-attack that left several others, men and women alike, paralyzed and comatose for putting hands and fingers where they weren't welcome, for trying to get a peek at what was private.

Frost bathed her wounds, changed her bloody clothes, graciously left the wrap around her breasts, and sat with her while she sobbed weakly and begged to go home. Carol, it was decided, was now leading the research team where Adanya was concerned, as she was the only person to survive contact without any ill effects. Not even Stryker would lay a finger on her, not even to touch her hand or hair, for fear she'd warp his cells. It amazed him, how easily it came to her, with so little hands-on training.

"Anya?"

She peeled her gaze away from the dark, rippling water. "Huh?"

With little fanfare, he leaned in and kissed her, a slender hand going to cradle her head, tip her at a better angle. Instinctively, from someplace deep in her back-brain, where she didn't ever go, she responded eagerly, following his lead as though they were dancing. Her heartbeat kicked into high gear, revving up like a motorcycle, matching his in foxtrot time.

She tasted candy.

_SweeTarts._

SweeTarts, and honey lip balm. The kiss deepened; a tang of sugar rolled over her tongue.

His other hand fell to her waist, pulling her almost into his lap, fingers absently tugging at her hair. He was so sure of himself, never hesitating or stopping mid-way, never breaking contact to shyly ask permission. Adanya relaxed, sinking into his grasp easily, like all the women in the trashy novels she kept hidden beneath her mattress, languid and sensual like a sleek jungle cat.

The colors in her mind shifted, deepening to a richer, truer shade. _Oh God_, some niggling little part of her brain woke up, screaming at her, _he likes you! He likes you, you stupid, sodding, cow! He's attracted to you! Don't you see what you've done! Stupid, stupid girl! _But she hadn't kissed anyone since Marshall, and it was so heavenly divine, just a couple more seconds…

And she felt his hands on the buttons of her sweater.

She pulled back sharply. "I didn't come here to tame tigers," She wiped her mouth on the back of her hand, blushing miserably. "And I really don't think casual sex is going to work." Wade's education, or lack thereof, wasn't the only thing she knew about.

"You think entirely too much, Anya." Wade leaned in again to pick up where they'd left off.

Adanya leaned back. "Fine, I _know_ this isn't going to work." She put a hand out behind her; she'd fall in if she moved any further.

"How does one go about taming a tiger?" She was fond of the phrase, it couldn't hurt to humor her for another kiss.

"You don't," She bit her lower lip. "You _can't_." She sounded almost regretful. "You can teach it to act kindly, and train it to obey you, but you won't ever control what it is; ever tame what it was meant to be. Every time you pass the cage, the tiger watches and waits, and listens for the moment you forget that it's a tiger and not a friend, and it will attack you." She knew the ways of tigers; she played in their paw prints and bore the scars of careless handling. "The moment you think you've tamed a tiger is the moment the tiger realizes it's won, and you're done for."

"Are you calling me a tiger?"

"Maybe." She studied her knees, drawn up tight to her chest. "And I don't think I can handle feeling your claws in my back."

"Shows what you know," He glared at her moodily; she wasn't supposed to act like this. "_I_ could be one of the good guys, you know, be all sweet and romantic if I wanted." That needy tone was back, same as in the kitchen, wheedling and wanting and _needy_. Jason needed her to keep him from being evil, Martin wanted to need her, Marshall was _desperate_ for her…

"I'm not supposed to be alone with boys," A cold thrill shot down her spine, like nails on a chalkboard. "They'll start talking," She whipped her head around, staring at the buildings frantically, searching for witnesses.

"About _what_?"

"They're gonna start talking about me," She gasped, horrified at the cacophony of screaming, warning voices in her head. "They're gonna tell her. They'll know," She looked down at herself, a trembling hand lifting to grasp her necklace. "They'll know, they'll see." Her hand flattened on her collarbone. All the men, everyone who'd seen her undressed had perished. The men who'd tried to undress her, the two nurses that tried to unwrap her, all of them, dead by her hand and will, trying to see what wasn't theirs to look at. "They'll see…"

"Anya,"

"I can't be like this," She got to her feet before Wade could catch her. "They can't think it." She was gone in a flash of skirt and shoes, running up the dock like Hell was snapping at her heels. They'd have to do something about her running; he was faster than her, but the chase wasn't any fun.

* * *

"Well?" Bradley watched Wade stalk into their common room, passing Adanya's door without a second glance. "Did she say anything?"

"We ever meet her father, he's a dead man."

"Why?" Bradley followed Wade with his eyes, flipping around in his chair like a teenage girl, enthralled with an irate pal's drama.

"I'll kill him."

* * *

Depending on whom you ask, either Wade or one of his friends killed his father. I opted for Wade. This chapter marks the end of spaz-tatsic Adanya, as well; from here on out she's going to be calmer and less volatile.

I borrowed and butchered a line from "Untamed Heart" for Wade. The correct, full quote from the movie is "He doesn't make sense, I don't make sense; together we make sense." And for everyone who says I quoted/borrowed from Carrie, here's the prom scene.

**Margaret White**: [_Referring to Carrie's prom gown_] Red. I might have known it would be red.  
**Carrie**: It's pink, Mama.  
[_Presenting corsage_]  
**Carrie**: Look what Tommy gave me, Mama. Aren't they beautiful?  
**Margaret White**: I can see your dirty pillows. Everyone will.  
**Carrie**: Breasts, Mama. They're called breasts, and every woman has them.

I know my scene had some very strong connections to the movie Carrie, to which I credit my own personal love of Stephen King, but it wasn't a direct smack. The Bible hitting is another tie, but it's a different scene entirely. I should have mentioned it in the A/Ns, but I forgot. I even edited it a couple times when it got too "Carrie" for my liking. The closet is bigger than Maggie and her religion, as I proved on the dock, but it was still cool that you guys noticed. _And_ the movie came out in 1976, which works with the storyline.

I was kind of surprised though, and it wasn't done intentionally, that nobody picked up on Martin Prince. Same name as the kid from The Simpsons. I thought up the name Martin, and then I realized I had to give him a surname. Prince just worked.

You guys, if you haven't already, should check out my Anya-centric drabbles, because I think they are both fun and enjoyable and I am a shameless feedback whore.


	7. Chapter 7

"So you're gonna keep me for a while?" Adanya fidgeted, lingering near the door, rubbing her left ankle with her right foot. She was cold and dirty, but stood quietly, as she'd been taught, until he looked up expectantly.

"What?" Stryker looked up from his desk, thrown into soft relief in the dim light of his lamp. For once, Zero was nowhere to be seen.

"You had me bring all my stuff," She leaned back against the door, fidgeting. "Books and records and clothes," Nervously, she picked at her sweater. "You're gonna keep me."

"I wanted you to be comfortable," Gesturing her forward, he indicated the overstuffed chair in the corner. "Sit and talk to me, Adanya,"

Obligingly, she dragged it closer to the desk. "But you're gonna _keep_ me." She replied insistently, sitting down carefully and crossing her ankles. "You let me go shopping, you want me to have stuff here," Her nose twitched. "You're gonna keep me." Her behavior was a mixture of edgy and refined, Stryker noted, her anxiety fighting her upbringing.

"Yes, Adanya, I plan on keeping you." He nodded, watching her closely. "Is that alright?"

"Yes," It was exactly what she wanted to hear. Relief flooded her body like hot cocoa, seeping into every pore as the tension fled her limbs. "If you want me here I'll stay, and I'll do better than anyone else, I'll be as good you want." Her pretty face was as earnest as her words, promising everything she could deliver.

Stryker pasted on what he thought was a winning and fatherly smile of concern. "What do you think of them?"

"I like them," Old habits crept up; she drew her knees up and hugged them. "Mostly." She looked childishly elfin, perched in the overstuffed chair, drowning in wide eyes, long hair and sweater. "I don't know, I've never been around so many..."

"Savage, blood thirsty, merciless manimals?" He came around the desk, leaning back against it as he stood in front of her. He'd taken off his jacket earlier; the lamplight reflected off the gold pin on his loose tie.

"They're _fearless_," She let her legs fall, staring up at him emphatically. "And I'm scared of _everything_." She brought her knees up to her chest again, resting her chin on them. "It's been like a bad dream," She let her legs go, moving to tuck them underneath her, looking more her age. "A long, bad dream. Like when you eat bad Mexican food and spend the night throwing up and then go to bed without brushing your teeth."

"You haven't been feeling well lately, have you?" He stroked the top of her head, her hair soft and tangled beneath his hand. It made him think of Diane, whose soft, baby-fine blonde hair never fell longer than the back of her neck, and was _such_ a hassle, as she was apt to remind him.

"Not since I got here," She leaned into his hand unconsciously craving what little affection he offered. "I'm running hot and cold like a maniac faucet, I can't even predict my own moods. They think I'm a nut job or something,"

"After living with Wade, I'm sure they find you absolutely normal."

"Doubt it," She bit her thumbnail, looking at her hands. She'd ruin her nails if she started chewing them again. "I miss Sunny,"

"She's fine," Stryker lied easily. "Taken care of." He tugged her hands away from her face. "You know, Wade used to chew his nails too, disgusting habit."

"It's overwhelming," She frowned at her hand, picking a sliver of thumbnail off her lower lip. "I can't handle so much all at once,"

"Says the girl that passed through boot camp at eleven," He reminded archly. "And talked her way into basic training, in the same summer."

"Don't think I didn't know what you were all doing," Adanya shook her head, twirling a lock of hair around her finger. "The only reason I wanted to do it so bad was to prove that I could." In the back of her mind, it occurred to her that he'd never asked how her hair had grown back so quickly. "I know you all thought it was a joke, but I wanted to show him I could do it, so _he'd_ want to keep me." Her father, wonderful and oft misguided man he was, had little use for a cutesy house-frau or a mistress, or even for his own daughter. Anyone that didn't serve a direct and functional purpose wasn't worth his time. Little girls did not serve a purpose in day-to-day military goings-on.

"Didn't work," She sniffed, her lower lip pouted out, beginning to tremble. "Never works." Only thing she wanted more than a home was to _be_ wanted, and nobody ever seemed to need her like she needed them.

"Dear little girl," Stryker held out his arms; she stood obligingly and allowed herself to be embraced, her cheek pressed to his shirtfront. "Poor little Adanya, you need so much." He knew how insecure she was, she always had been, but it was achingly real here, seeking reassurance in his office that someone still wanted her. Pathetic little wretch; at least Wade had dignity enough to torture his bunkmates into liking him.

"I want my home." She sniffled miserably. "I should have stayed put in Chesapeake," She sniffled again, wanting very much to cry and ruin his perfectly ironed and starched shirt. "It wasn't so bad, I could have taken it," She sniffled again miserably. "Marshall wasn't so bad, I could have made him better." She felt tears burning the corners of her eyes. "Why didn't he want me?"

"I know," He stroked a hand down her hair. "I know, I know, I know. Poor little dear," He kept petting. "My poor, precious little dear."

"Diane used to say that," She lifted her head, staring at him oddly. "Diane used to call me her poor little dear when I had nightmares," Something odd and meaningful shifted in her maroon eyes, making them look like rubies, a flush of heat following her gaze.

"I remember," He patted her cheek gently, feeling warmth beneath his palm. "You were her special little girl then, and now you're mine." She was so easy to read, so utterly simple.

"Promise?" Her eyes lit up hopefully, bright with the same kind of hero-worship she held for her father, the doting little miss that would do absolutely _anything_ for praise and affection. She took a half step back, out of his arms, and studied his face for clues. "Really? You promise?" She looked a third her age at best, an overgrown child.

"Promise." He stroked his fingers over her cheek, earning himself a shock of warmth. "You are incredibly important to me, Adanya, you have no idea just how much. I won't _ever_ let anything bad happen to you,"

* * *

Stryker expected, he _hoped _for backlash after last night's performance. At least from a couple of them. Victor and North didn't care either way, but Dukes and Logan were fond of the girl, and Wade was testing the waters. None of them lifted a hand to save her from what lurked in the shadows, but their faces gave them away. Given the chance, they'd switch from dragons to knights, all for the love of a maid. Girls, pretty women, wielded more power than militaries alone could dream of. It made him laugh a little, to himself in private, that his team of psychotic, feral, maniac, mercenary assassins had fallen so quickly for the charms of a naïve teenage girl.

"Good morning, gentleman," He walked into their basic training room, carrying a stack of manila folders. North followed, looking uptight and pompous as ever at Stryker's side. All that was missing was Adanya, and nobody was being shy about letting him know it.

"What's the idea behind the girl?" Jimmy made his voice gruffer than usual, and refused to put forth any emotion for Adanya other than irritation. "She's not right for this, ask anyone about her histrionics last night." He snarled. "She wants out, let her go. I don't trust her to have my back in a firefight,"

"Histrionics," Wade chuckled. "There's a two-dollar word from the fifty-cent man."

"Adanya has always been something of a high-strung child," Stryker gave a light shrug. "It's a defense mechanism, really," His cool, calm tone incensed them further. "She needs guidance is all, a firm hand. She needs to belong; once she's settled, she'll be quite proficient."

"Guidance?" Wade giggled. "You know Frosty gave her sleeping pills?" His mood switched on a dime. "They could knock out a T-Rex, she gave Anya a whole bottle."

"Carol gave her sedatives," Stryker had watched her, twenty-four tablets exactly. "Adanya won't take them." Half a pill alone could and probably would kill her.

"Then why give them to her?" Wade frowned.

"All in good time," He turned his gaze to the door. "She's very obedient; you should consider training her,"

"For what?" Wade looked at Stryker curiously, as though the man had actually, honestly peaked his fleeting interest for a moment.

The door burst open, a breathless Adanya following. "Sorry, am I late?" A quick glance at the others told her just how badly she'd been singled out. _Again._

"She's wearing a skirt," Victor laughed, a low, dark sound. "Well, I know what the tactical advantage is today,"

"Jesus," Wraith rolled his eyes to the ceiling. "Jesus H. Christ, this is all a big fuckin' joke, ain't it? We're all gonna wake up and laugh after we beat the shit out of Wade for drugging us," He threw a glance at the doors. "She ain't even there, is she? This is gonna be one of those sweat lodge dope-trips like that time in Mexico, we're all gonna come to and she's gonna be some weird little beaner offerin' us a beer."

"Nice legs," Chris gazed at her appraisingly.

Adanya blushed. "He said to dress normally," She tugged on the hem of her swing-skirt. "This is all I could find." Her legs were bare, pale and smooth, and apparently very shapely, if Bradley's scrutiny was any sort of compliment. "Um, why wasn't I told to wear pants, sir?"

Stryker ignored her question, instead giving her an indulgent look, like the one her father usually wore before presenting her with some lavishly unexpected gift. "I have something for you," He held his hand behind his back, almost mockingly. "Do you want it?"

She held her hands out in mock greed. "Gimme, gimme," If he wanted her to act like a child, she could. She could do whatever he wanted. "Gimme!" Her laughter was high and sweet.

"For you," He held out a set of dog tags, dangling from a length of chain. "Welcome to Team X, Adanya."

Her eyes lit up like Christmas morning. "I'm really part of the team, huh?" She looked at him, biting her lower lip, beaming. "Thanks." She slipped the chain over her head, the tags lying on her chest. "_I got dog tags, I belong here_," She studied the metal. "Winters, Adanya." On the flip side. "_Spook_. Neat!" It was a simple, meaningless gesture at best, but it touched her.

"You hear this?" North piped up, gesturing at her. "She belongs in the Girl Scouts, not the Army. Ooh, _shiny jewelry_," He gave a mocking, high-pitched squeal. "Pretty, shiny!"

"I like Girl Scouts," Wade grinned. "They bake cookies and wear cute little uniforms and…I want a cookie. Anya, go make me a cookie."

"I ate a Brownie once," Victor remarked offhandedly.

Wade grinned. "Yeah, me too,"

"Send her home," Jimmy pointed at her, not daring to look when he did so. If he caught a glimpse of her kicked-puppy expression, he'd only dig his grave a few hundred feet deeper. "Before she does something stupid and the rest of us have to deal with it,"

"She is home," Stryker reminded quietly, throwing her a short look. "Adanya is here now, under my care, and she will remain so as long as I see fit." His tone brooked no argument. "She is here at my discretion, and anyone thinking otherwise is sadly mistaken. I will not tolerate acts of violence against her anymore than I tolerate violence amongst yourselves. You all serve a purpose on my team, Adanya is no different."

"Hunh," Wade looked bored. "Does that mean we can't fuck her?"

"What?" She turned, staring at him with wide eyes. "Did _you_ just say that?" She stared, trying to make sense of it. "Really?"

"You think all I wanna do is sit and listen to you yap?" He rolled his eyes with an asshole grin. "Blah, blah, _bo-ring_."

"You're a jerk," Her mouth twisted with disgust. "Ugh," She turned her back to him, flipping her hair back, dismissing him. She turned her attention to Stryker, like a secretary awaiting her first barked order of the morning.

"She ain't cut out for this, and you know it." Wraith stated plainly, giving Stryker a no bullshit stare. "She can't keep her head, she don't like blood, afraid of the closet monster, don't like bein' undressed, can't take…girl, _stop_ giving me that look."

"Anything _you_ can do, _I_ can do. I can make myself better," She crossed her arms under her breasts. "I can change, I can be as good as any of you; I can learn to do anything you can." She looked more irritated than menacing in her petal-swing skirt and Oxford shoes. "Do your worst,"

Wraith cocked a brow at her. "Pee standing up." Beside him, Bradley snickered.

"That," Stryker interrupted. "Is the lesson for you, Adanya," She stared at him, mouth agape. "You are going to be recreating their mutant abilities within yourself."

"Oh," She exhaled softly, relaxed. "Just that, then."

"She has our files?" Chris looked perturbed. "Those are s'posed to be private,"

"Only documents pertaining to your mutant abilities," He handed them over, watching her ruby eyes scan names and titles, taking it all in quickly. That was one thing he appreciated about Malcolm's disinterest in his daughter; she learned very quickly how to please the people around her.

Fred's brow furrowed. "Wade's not a…"

Adanya's head jerked up. "You're human?"

"So?"

"Nothing," She flushed pink. "I just thought, I mean…I saw you, you can't be _normal_. Normal human men, even trained men, aren't as good as him." She looked to Stryker, bemused and curious and dazed. "North's not even as good as him," She looked thoroughly confused. "Sure he's a jerk, but he can't be…normal." It was such a bland word for an exotic man. "I've never met anyone like Wade that wasn't a mutant,"

"Anya, you're making me blush,"

"Are you sure he's not hiding it?" She flashed him a quick look. "I'm serious, can he hide it? I can hide mine pretty well, most people don't even know I'm different,"

Stryker patted her cheek condescendingly. "Wade is human, I promise." He cast an almost fatherly look upon the young man. "Although his rather…_unique_ skills seem to make up for his lack of genetic progression."

"Hm," She opened Victor's file, presented with several photos of his nails. "I'm gonna go study then," She turned, feeling eyes on her legs when her skirt shifted. "Have fun trying to kill each other, you know, all that macho manly, half-naked wrestling and grunting and sweating that is _so_ heterosexual." She gave another little spin, her skirt flaring up high, and literally skipped, like a child, to the office.

Wade stared after her. "Did she just call us gay?"

* * *

"I think I'm ready to try teleporting," She'd given up on trying to duplicate Jimmy's claws, all she did was split the skin between her knuckles and rip open long gashes along her forearms.

"So soon?"

"Now or never, I guess." She fidgeted, tugging on her skirt when she saw Bradley stealing glances at her legs again. "I can't do Jimmy's claws," She held up her left arm. "It never healed right, they keep ripping through too soon, they'll never reach my hands."

"Yes," He tapped along her arm, feeling the small, spiraling lift, the ridge of badly healed bone. "Nevertheless, you think you can teleport?"

"Yes." She nodded meekly, taking her arm back. "Unless there's a rule against girls teleporting."

A ghostly smile flitted over his face. "And if you don't succeed?"

"I don't know, everything usually works." She shrugged again. "I can try."

"Adanya,"

"Let me try." She gave him a winning smile and pointed across the room, in front of Wade. "Right there," She gave him another pleading, winsome look. "Have a little faith." She closed her eyes, body tightening, her face a smooth mask of concentration, and vanished in a short _huff_ of imploding air.

Stryker's jaw dropped, he stared at the spot where she'd stood, goggling like a rather absurd looking fish. Adanya reappeared two feet away, held her balance for all of a moment, and fell on her face. She was shivering, looking up at the people around her through her mussed hair, wide-eyed and pale.

"Wow."

"How do you feel?" Stryker took the distance between them quickly, staring down at her.

"_Awful_," She sat up, holding her head gingerly. "Can I tell you a secret?"

"Go ahead,"

"I wanted to try that since he told me he was a teleporter," She looked up, her eyes glassy. "I locked onto his signal and copied it, sequenced it into myself, so I could practice." This was her practice, a two-foot clearance for a six-foot hope. "I think I'm gonna be sick." She looked faintly green; everyone besides Stryker took a preemptive step back. "_Ooh_," She fell forward on her hands; her cheek pressed to the cold concrete, breathing in slow, deep measures.

"You've done very well," He looked pleased, smeary with satisfaction, when she lifted her head. "I'm very proud of you." He patted the top of her head, much the same way he'd pat an unruly, irksome puppy. "Can you try again?" His voice was steady, but wheedling.

"Kay," She nodded and narrowed her eyes, focusing hazily on a spot about three feet away. She steeled herself, panting heavily, trying to make herself vanish and reappear. The slush in her head was thicker than her ability to sift through it. "I can't do it," Defeat was heavy in her small voice, ashamed that she couldn't perform. "I'm too dizzy,"

"That's still remarkable progress, Adanya," Stryker praised, watching her look up at him hopefully. "Brilliant work for a first attempt, you've done so well." He cast a look around the assemblage. "Remarkable," He looked down at her again, then at the others. "Carry on."

She found what she wanted, picking herself up off the floor, watching him almost adoringly. She found her replacement father, and she was making him happy. He'd never put her in a closet again, or tell her she'd killed her mother, or remind her that good girls didn't conduct themselves like harlots. He wanted to keep her, he praised her, he defended her, he made them leave her alone…he was better than her Daddy already.

She got to her feet slowly, another wave of vertigo weakening her knees, both hands going to her head. Everything was mushy and muddled and blurry; it was worse than sloe gin fizzes in Mary-Anne Fisk's basement on the fourth of July. She looked up, registering the sound of Fred's voice without really hearing his words, accepting the thick-fingered hand he offered, steadying her.

"Oh my God, she looks stoned."

"Can she hear us, John?"

"Give her a minute, it's her first time." His voice was clearer. "Still looks like she's gonna be sick, though."

"Hey Anya, watch this!" A flick, a near soundless whip of an expertly handled blade hissing through the air caught her attention, flawlessly handled, perfectly honed blades flicking near her, dangerously close, lights flickering and sparkling erratically. Her eyes followed the motion, but she couldn't register much else.

She exhaled, not realizing she'd held her breath, when cool air brushed parts of her body that she never left exposed. Wade lowered his blade, looking her over with a brief smile, and she forgot what she was supposed to be doing. Her gaze stole back to the katana, lax at his side, light gleaming off the polished metal.

_Pretty._

"What'dja do?" Her thoughts were still fogging and muddled from teleporting, forming a coherent thought was like wading through waist-high quagmire wearing a soaked wool suit and stiletto heels. She knew she sounded drunk, if not worse.

Wade lowered his katana slowly, drinking in his reward. Anya in underwear was even better than wet Anya, or Anya in pajamas. Wade took a half-step back, turned to his teammates, and gave an exaggerated bow. "Thank you very much." He drawled, in his best Elvis.

"Hello, nurse." Wraith let out a long, slow whistle. "Damn,"

Even Victor seemed impressed. "Nice rack, frail."

"Huh?" She didn't seem to realize what was going on, still dazzled and dazed from the flashing, spinning katana that seemed to steal away her attention from anyone or anything else. The world narrowed down to two people, a lot of colors, and dazzling lights. Her head was clearing, the fog lifting, seeming to splinter away beneath deftly handed shocks of silvery light.

Wade grinned wickedly, pointing to her reflection in the office windows. "See for yourself," He was immensely proud; he'd gotten her completely undressed, wrap and all, without nicking her flesh or touching her underwear.

She turned, still thick and foggy, and gave a short, drunken giggle. "There's a girl in the window,"

She had fabulous breasts; proportionate to her wide hips, unbound and full. Her shoulders were a little bony, and a sloppy line of scar tissue dotted her left shoulder blade, but her back wasn't all that wide. Her waist was small, narrower, than it should have been, because of the damn binding. Three little spots under the left side of her ribcage, birthmarks, like small blots of copper. A faint pink line swept down in a wide arc from the left cup of her bra, ending faintly at her side, almost like a scar. Down further, her navel was a shadowy dip in her flesh, which she'd always thought was odd because it had once stuck out a little bit, just a touch.

Adanya came to reality quickly, realizing what she was looking at. She could see _herself _in the window.

In her little red-sock-in-the-wash dyed pink bra and panties, the one she'd meant to get rid of.

Almost totally naked.

Undressed. In front of the boys. Just like they all predicted.

She couldn't _look_ at herself. Her stomach rebelled, clenching and twisting, churning painfully. Both arms curled up to her chest, her breathing became sporadic and gaspy, the muscles in her throat swelling up like fat leeches, cutting off her air. She was exposed in places that had barely seen the sun, places she never even looked at when she could help it. Her entire body trembled with dark, irrational shame; part of her wanted to scream while the rest of her couldn't move, she was frozen in place like a statue and she couldn't move. She just couldn't move, it was too disgusting.

Couldn't have been more than thirty seconds, but it felt like an eternity. Sharp, twisting pain gnawed at her belly, arching up into her chest, searing her deflated, useless lungs, pushing up and out until she was forced to take a breath. One breath was all she needed, enough to propel her past the fluttery scraps of her clothing, running to the office and the semblance of safety.

Ducking down behind the desk, she did the only sensible thing she knew how, a trick she'd picked up at some church gathering, from a fellow cookie-sister, another girl that had been deemed too pretty for her own good. Numb, shaking hands grabbed the waste paper basket she'd been aiming pencils at earlier, as Autumn's cool, troubled voice came back.

_"When it gets too bad, and you can't just do it yourself, go like this,"_ Autumn had instructed. _"Just stick your fingers down your throat until it tickles, then you'll be able to sick it up and feel better."_

"Ugh, she's puking!" They could all hear her retching. "Gross, that's like, the nastiest thing a chick can do besides a queef," Wade shouted at the office door. "So not sexy, Anya!"

"What?" Dukes stared at him.

Bradley glared. "Shut up, Wade."

* * *

"Adanya?" Jimmy could see her toes peeking out from behind the desk, her shoes discarded near the door. It seemed silly to be undressed with shoes on. "You need to see a medic, punkin'?" She wasn't born for teleporting; God only knew what she did to herself for trying.

"I'm okay," She sniffled, wiping her mouth on the back of her hand for the ninth time. "I just need a minute," She'd pushed the trashcan to the far corner, layered her mess with several stacks of paper to mask the sour smell. "I just need a minute,"

Pity knifed through his heart. "I'm gonna get you some clothes, Addy, just stay put," He disappeared before she could look up, slamming the door hard enough to rattle the glass.

"Okay," She nodded tearfully, wiping her eyes carefully. Her stomach hurt and her throat was on fire; it had been a while since the last time she'd thrown up so forcefully. She gagged on the taste of bile, wiping her mouth on her arm, beginning to sniffle again.

"Oh jeeze, she's crying," Wade could hear her, trying to choke back her sobs, the low scuffling on the floor when she moved something. "Oh come on, Anya, we know what girls look like!" His voice echoed over the short sob. "You're a credit to your sex!"

"Shut up, Wade." Bradley ducked a blow. "You're just making it worse,"

"Come on out, don't be shy," Wade taunted, getting closer to the closed door. "I like you better in your underwear,"

"Wade." Stryker intervened. "Enough."

"Okay," He rolled his eyes.

* * *

Jimmy brought her clothes from a locker outside the gym, way too big and baggy, but she didn't give him a word of protest, waiting quietly until he turned his back to stand up, mercifully concealed behind a wall, nowhere near the windows, and dressed herself.

From the corner of his eye, he was a man after all, he put his pants on one leg at a time like everyone else, he snuck another glance at her and instantly regretted it. She dressed herself quickly, with her eyes closed. Each motion was easy, no snags or jerks; she'd been at it for a while. Eyes sewn shut, lower lip caught in her teeth almost painfully enough to draw blood, she stayed that way until she'd straightened the sweatshirt, hanging loosely around her hips, and pillowed it out a bit to cover her breasts.

"Thanks, Jimmy." She tossed her hair back, sitting back down on the floor and pulling her knees up. "Ugh, you don't have a mint or something, do you?" She wiped her mouth on her sleeve. "I hate it when that happens, it tastes awful."

"You ever look at yourself undressed, Addy?" He sat beside her, speaking in a conversational voice.

"No," She stared at him like he'd grown a second head. "It's bad."

"Why?"

"Because they said so," She retorted coldly. "It's very bad, I'm not supposed to do it," She still cringed every time she heard or saw the word anatomy. "It's not natural, it's dirty." Her eyes were cold and dark, but her voice trembled. "It's dirty and sick and wrong, girls aren't supposed to do it. Bad things happen when girls are…exposed."

"Punkin', we're all born naked." It was a dirty, sneaky, underhanded thing to do to a dizzy girl, but she had to learn eventually. "Spend most of our lives naked, in some way or the other," Stryker said she could be trained, if nothing else it wouldn't hurt to try. "Nothing wrong with a bare body, just what people want you to see when you look at it."

"But," Someplace in the back part of her brain, her cheek still stung and her bottom was still blistered; there was nothing natural about that.

"But nothing, Adanya." He used her name emphatically. "I don't know who put what in your head, but there's nothing wrong with you, or any part of you that I can see."

"That's just it," She didn't like any of it, what people could see, what they'd know, how they acted…she was almost home in Ohio, almost comfortable, studying to be a teacher, trying to date…and they'd taken her away, again, told her to make this place home. New people trying to make her change.

"What?"

"It's what you can _see_." She picked up her shoes, turning to the doorway. "May I be excused, please?"

"Yes," Stryker held an arm out to usher her through the door, stroking her hair affectionately. "Go on, Adanya, we'll finish your lessons later."

"D'you think I could call Marshall?" She sniffed, the tears starting up again. "It's been a while since I…I want to check on him, make sure he's okay," She looked pathetic and vulnerable once more, trembling in oversized clothing, eyes red and wet.

"Later, Adanya." Stryker promised, smoothing his palm over her hair one last time. "Go on and clean up, we'll continue the lesson later."

"Thank you," She ducked her head, walking past her teammates silently, not daring to make eye contact or look at her shredded clothing on the floor. They all had respect…decency, enough to ignore her, Wraith taking another wild swing at Dukes to distract himself.

"You were lookin' all sexy, kitten, why'd you leave?" Wade knocked Bradley on his ass, deflecting another blow from North as he catcalled.

"I'm not yours to look at!" She snapped viciously, her cheeks burning red. "You don't do that!" She'd frozen, halfway to the door, eyes burning.

"Oh come on, princess, you know you liked it." He grinned at her, feigning charm. "Stood there long enough, I could've taken off those cute little pink panties," He threw a solid punch that landed hard on David's jaw, knocking him down for a moment. "You know, Anya, for such an uptight little priss, you have some kinky little…"

"You don't know anything about being good, or pure, or chaste, or decent!" Unwittingly, she played right into his game, giving him more than enough material to work with. "You don't know _anything!_"

"Don't start crying," Wade shouted, using a tone he'd never taken with her before. "Don't you fucking _dare_ start crying again!" Bradley, who'd gotten to his feet, forgot to attack and simply stared at Wade, bemused that he'd take such a tone with _her_.

"Fu..." She lost her voice, settling for glaring at him. She felt Stryker's eyes on her.

"Say it, say _'fuck you'_, say it, Anya!" It wasn't a challenge so much as a demand, his voice taking on a near childish timbre. "Go on, say it!"

She regained composure and shot him a look of pure venom. "Go fly a kite, Wilson."

"Oh that hurts, Tinkerbell." He sneered. "Should I take you back out to the lake, you seem to like talking there." He gazed at her coolly, his eyes clinical. "Tell me anything I wanna know, right?"

"Go to Hell," She spit, eyes burning. "You're a _monster_," She cast one last look at the ribbons of fabric that once made up her clothing, and walked away. Actually turned her back to him and walked away.

"Big talk, Sybil, you can't get enough of me!" He shouted at her backside, watching her walk away. "You _need_ me, Anya, nobody else will put up with you!" He wasn't used to being denied, ignored, by anyone he didn't immediately get to kill afterward. He watched her walk away; disappear through the doors without so much as a backward glance, his hand tight on the hilt of his katana. His eyes were dark, nearly black, and narrowed; if he hadn't been so furious, he would have registered the faint prickle at the back of his neck, the feeling of being watched.

A young man with dark hair and mismatched eyes crouched low, just beneath the windowsill, looking down on his father's taskforce, Doctor Frost hovering behind him. His Sunny girly was home, just like his father promised; she was still pretty and sunny and sweet…and he hated the boy down below them, still waving his stupid sword, yelling at the sunny girl like he owned her. Taking off her clothes like she was his wife, looking at her like that, telling her she needed him…Sunny girly didn't need anybody like _him_.

"Sunny girl is mine," He glared at Carol. "She's _my_ Sunny girl." He threw a glance to the glass. "Not his, _she's not his!_"

"Yes, I know." She nodded fearfully. "She's your Sunny girl."

"Taking my Sunny girly home," He glared down again. "Gonna get him."

* * *

James had smelled the chocolate two halls back. "Pudding?" He'd been allowed to leave early to check up on her, much to the chagrin of the others. Stryker extended their session with the sole purpose of giving the girl time to cool down and gather her head against Wade Wilson and his antics. None of them were happy, but he wasn't about to give up on his genetic metamorph to satisfy the rest of them.

"There's more on the stove," She pointed to the range, licking her spoon. "I needed a pick-me-up."

"You leave anyone behind?" He kept his tone light, though a quick shift in her scent put him on guard. "Before you came here, I mean."

"Just Sunny," Adanya swirled her spoon through the last of her pudding. "Didn't have too many friends in Ohio, 'cept Sunny and some girls from work."

"Who's Marshall?" Another quick shift in her scent mingled shame and…_arousal_ with fear. Apparently Marshall was something special.

"He's nobody important, just someone I used to know." She became very interested in her bowl, running a set of fingertips around the rim. "From Chesapeake, before I left."

"Sounded important if you want to check on him," He dogged, watching her fidget. "Everyone you talk about sounds important, or you wouldn't give their names." She was too honest, too open; she handed out semi-personal information like Halloween candy.

"We were close," She half lied. "What about you, did you leave anyone behind?"

"Just me and Victor," He twisted the cap off a beer and took a long, healthy swallow. "Never found a woman that lasts,"

"Hm," She sniffed, sliding off her chair. "You look like you'd have a line of girls trailing after you," She set her bowl in the sink, turning on the faucet. "Cross between Wrangler Jeans and the Marlboro Man." She glanced over her shoulder appraisingly. "With a _touch_ of Clint Eastwood,"

"Could say the same for you," He finished the beer, ignored her look, and went for a new one.

"Nah, boys lose interest when girls don't put out," Another exaggerated shrug; she had all the social training with none of the actual experience. "I had a group of pretty good friends, but all of them were either in relationships with my girlfriends, or…had a touch of the lavender."

He broke into a bout of coughing, rough laughter. "Punkin', I haven't heard that in years," He grinned wolfishly. "Don't they just call 'em queers now?"

"Well they did," She smiled despite herself. "Some of my best boyfriends were…_homosexuals_," Her voice dropped over the scandalous word. "Fruit flavor boys," She giggled.

"Why'd you date the gays?" He looked amused at least, popping the cap off a fresh beer. "Pretty girl like you could have her pick,"

"None of us wanted to be different," She shrugged. "There are three things to do in Chesapeake; football, cheerleading, and…oh, don't make me say it," She blushed miserably. "Haven't I been embarrassed enough today?"

"Fucking?" In the back of his head, from a place far off and long ago, he heard a spunky blonde. _"All we do here's cheer and fuck, sometimes I do both together."_

"Yes," She gave a short nod. "I wasn't a cheerleader, but I was on the pep squad, and none of them were football players," She dated the chess team, the debate team, and the track team. "So we'd go to socials and dances after the games and walk the halls together, just to keep up appearances." For two years, she never carried her books around school, or had to search for a seat anywhere, until everyone in school realized she wasn't getting any farther than walking the field. "Farthest any of us ever got was holding hands, but it kept us out of gossip."

"Do you even like boys, Addy?" It would make some sort of sense; she was friendly, but she pushed them at the edges of her space when she could. "It's okay not to, girls are good too."

"I like boys," She gave him a shy smile. "I used to get in trouble, for being too flirtatious with boys. I smiled too much, and I wore too much perfume, and my blouses were just too sheer," She made a face. "My sweaters were never loose enough, or buttoned _properly_," She spit the word, an ashy taste in her mouth. "Maggie took me out of gym class, because they ran two classes alongside, segregated of course, but the boys weren't supposed to see me in gym shorts."

"Sounds like Maggie did a number on you,"

"I didn't even know what my _period_ was until it started," She pushed her plate away, shaking her head. "And when I got home, she made me stay in the closet for three days straight, because I was a _sinner_." She finger-quoted the word, with a snarl playing around her eyes. "She said I was a whore because only whores bleed like that, that it wasn't much of a surprise because I'm just so _friendly_ with the boys. She said I got it from my mother, and I punched her in the mouth and ran away," She rubbed her knuckles, remembering the faint, tinkly feel of broken teeth. "Ended up in Louisiana. Later on, after I had two weeks of life in the French Quarter, until Daddy sent someone to bring me back to Chesapeake." Another shy, secret smile came to her face. "I picked up a thing or two on Bourbon Street, met a really good friend too,"

"Two weeks on Bourbon Street, huh?" Jimmy chuckled. "Girl, you are just full of surprises, ain'tcha?"

She opened her mouth to respond, a touch of sass on the tip of her tongue, when Wade strolled into the room. "So I can look at you, but Dukes and Bradley can't?" The others followed, looking worn out and ragged; Adanya knew their session had run long, Stryker's way of punishing them. Jimmy was becoming something of her babysitter.

"What?" Of all of them, even Victor, Wade looked best; like he'd been making like a playboy and relaxing with some jazz instead of running drills and sparring with everyone Stryker aimed at him. He was a little sweaty, but it suited him.

"Stryker says you're mine, so I can stare at you all I want." He asserted, stalking closer to her.

"No," She turned away, looking around for help. "I'm not a doll on a shelf, I'm not here for you to look at."

"But you're mine," He followed, refusing to let her get away. "You're _my_ playmate, you were brought here for _me_; therefore, you're _mine_."

"I don't _belong_ to you," She folded her arms under her bosom, staring him down coldly. "I'm not a possession," She moved past him only to be jerked back into place, held between his body and the countertop. "You couldn't keep me if you wanted to, anyway."

"You make yourself sound like one," He countered, pinning her to the counter, his arms on either side of hers. "You know, _I'm not yours to look at!_"

"That's different than being someone's object," She squirmed; he held her tighter. "Being someone's possession is different than _belonging_ to them," She leaned back, trying to put some space between them to move, Wade kept her firmly in place effortlessly. "You _don't_ own me, we're _not_ together, and we're _not_ married, so I'm _not_ yours," She shoved him away roughly, a hint of color in her face that had nothing to with exertion.

"Oh, is that it? You just want to settle down and get married," He followed her, tugging on her hair until she turned around and punched his arm, knowing she'd only made contact because he let her. "You are in the _wrong_ story, sweetcheeks." He grinned; something inside her melted. "Better tell Lola to write you a new one, or at least give us some action." He looked up at the ceiling. "Think she's listening, or she's got that damn chick music cranked again?"

She ignored him, blushing indignantly. "No, I want _stability_," She tamped down the blush, willing her blood to cool. "I want a home that doesn't change every month, a place where I can speak one language instead of having to know nine in order to talk to my nanny." Anger stole the light, youthful tone from her voice and made it harsh. "I want to know someone's there when I go to sleep, and still there when I wake up," She flipped her hair back, a flush of anger settling over the crests of her cheeks. "I'm sorry if I don't fit the bimbo, rough-and-tumble playmate description you were sold, but I am no man's whore."

"Stripper," Wade corrected quietly.

"Excuse me?"

"Stryker sold you as a stripper, not a bimbo whore," He reasoned, with a cocky smile. "Since we got you from the strip club instead of the corner hotel."

"Of _all_ the things to remember," She rolled her eyes, flopping on the couch. She picked up her copy of _Moby Dick_ and opened it mid-way through; so familiar with the story she could pick up at any page and understand what was happening. "And for the record, the Bunny Hutch is a _gentleman's club_, not a topless bar. We kept our nipples covered."

Wade sat down opposite of her grinning. "May I see your covered nipples? Please?"

Adanya blushed, sinking lower into the couch, the book coming up higher to cover her cherry-red face. "No, you may not, but thank you for saying please." The color lightened a touch, but she kept the book high enough they couldn't see her face. "You fucking pervert."

"She said it!" Wade jumped, pointing at her. "Anya said it! She dropped the F-bomb!"

Bradley sat down, looking at Adanya carefully, lest he upset her. "Where'd you get that scar on your shoulder?" He blushed almost as quickly as he'd asked, when Adanya looked up quickly. "I saw it earlier," His ears felt warm, and his plate suddenly became very interesting. Something about her eyes seemed to sink in right to his soul.

"That's my birth scar," Absently, she reached around and touched her shoulder, the jagged line. "I got it before I was born." She tilted her head. "Well, _when_ I was born," She set her book down, knowing she'd get no peace until the story was over.

"How?"

"My mom was in a car crash when she was pregnant with me," She'd heard the story maybe three times her whole life. "A big chunk of the windshield ripped right over her belly," She traced a line over her sweater, just below her ribs. "Everyone else was okay, but she got slashed."

"They were gonna take her to the hospital and get her fixed up, but she realized I wasn't moving around anymore." She looked at her splayed hands, searching her mind for bits of the story. "And she saw how much blood there was, and she felt the cut. It went right in, she could feel me through it." It had been enough to scrape up her shoulder, or so she was told. "She realized if they made it to the hospital to save her, I'd die." She blinked, trying to recall the faint, lovely scent of Oriental perfume. She'd only opened the bottle once, just enough for a breath, and spent a week in the closet for it. "I was leaking, I guess, and she knew it." The stains had never come out of the baby blanket she had, the one her mother had wrapped her in, just barely finished in time. "So she took a piece of the glass and finished the cut," She drew her hand over her middle. "Just like that,"

"You're fucking kidding," Chris and Fred gaped at her.

"She lifted me out, a whole pound and two ounces, and she held me until she died." An entire ten minutes, Juliana Winters clung to life and crooned to her daughter in thick, sweet Italian, in love words and prayers. "I was told she said she'd rather die with me than live without me, that her body was a garden, not a graveyard." Adanya's nose twitched, and she rubbed her eyes childishly. "She had real strong ideas about stuff, she was _really_ religious. Somebody told me she thought letting me die inside of her was like a mortal sin, because she could have saved me, she could have done something to stop it." Papa, he'd told her that, after one of her Aunts, God rest her soul, had committed two mortal sins in a month; she let a baby die and she suicided for it.

"Your mom was hard-core," Even Wade looked impressed. "Damn, Anya, now we know where you got it."

"I was born three months early; I wasn't supposed to make it past a month. They said I was going to be blind and deaf and retarded," And yet, she was none of those things. "Daddy left me at the hospital, I had all sorts of nurses and nannies and doctors taking care of me," She'd missed, according to Emmy and her ever-loving feminist movement, a bonding time with both parents, which made her more susceptible to bad relationships; yet another way men failed her.

"When they finally released me, he had to head off to 'Nam again, so he sent me to Italy to live with my grandparents," Idly, she traced a pattern on the arm of the sofa, her nails working into the worn fabric. "I was with them until I was two, then he came back for me." Her nose twitched. "I didn't speak _any_ English, I didn't know who he was or what he wanted. He just showed up one day, in full uniform. I remember his boots were so _shiny_," Like sunlight gleaming off choppy, licorice black water at night, when Papa would fret for anyone on the water.

"I stared at them for the longest time, until Papa explained that he was my father, and he was taking me back to America with him." Her lips quirked into an almost smile. "You know what he did, when we finally said hello," She laughed hollowly, tilting her head, looking at Jimmy. "He didn't hug me, or try to hold me, or pick me up or anything; he shook my hand."

"Military men don't show emotion," He nodded, understanding. "Handshake's as good as anything."

"He did though," She looked at him with serious, wide eyes. "When I looked at him, he did. He _bawled_." She fairly leapt off the couch, scampering to her room, coming back a moment later with a thick scrapbook. "I look a lot like my mother, we have the same face almost," She flicked through the pages carefully, mindful of every pasted picture, every bit of her memory. "My eyes are bigger, and I'm not as dark skinned, but it's close enough to make him cry every so often." She stopped, looking down on the page fondly. "He'd check on me, when I was sleeping, and he cried for her. I heard him sometimes." She traced a photo reverently. "_Mia Madre Bella, _Juliana Lucia Concetta Cerniglia-Winters,"

"That's her, and my dad in Paris," She held the book out to Jimmy like an offering on a sacred alter. Above all of them, she trusted him to respect her things. "Leave it to my father to find a girl to marry in Italy, then take her around Europe for a honeymoon before heading home for duty," She gave another hollow laugh. "I don't know how he found the time, but he did. Don't know how he found time to do a lot of things," She bit on one of her dog tags idly, to spare her nails. "I used to think it was funny, she came to America from Italy without any English, and so did I."

In the old, black and white photo, Juliana wore a white dress, her arm tucked through his. "How old was she, when you were born?" She didn't look much older than her daughter, but her face was rounder, more youthful. Even in black and white, her dark eyes seemed to sparkle; her smile was just ever so gently mischievous. She was a beautiful woman, buxom and dishy, as delicious as any Italian he'd ever encountered, but she looked too young to marry a man that looked easily in his early thirties. She and Adanya could have been twins, right down to their curly hair.

"Sixteen," Adanya took the book back, smiling a bit sadly. "Six months after they were married, a week after her birthday, I came into the world."

* * *

I noticed, when I skimmed the last chapter for some detail work, that the number of people killed/wounded in the medical wing was really ambiguous. Like, _really_ ambiguous. This felt a little like filler, and I'll own that. I'm trying to build up a little to what's next, and it's weird. That, and I'm shoving so many of the little odd moments in my file for Misplaced, I'm trying to keep that one going while doing this one, without giving away the ending. Grr. This chapter marks the beginning of the less-cutesy Wade and the start of mood-swing Wade. I have this whole Deadpool theory going, and I'm trying to mesh it in a bit so it's more realistic to what's already been done, and what's going to happen.

There was one PM'd complaint I'd watered down DP/Wade, so I bitched him up a little.

_Mia Madre Bella_ "My beautiful mother," If I ever use Italian (or any other language other than English) I'll translate either in story or down here. Adanya speaks Italian fluently, while I rely on translators; so if I ever screw up, please enlighten me. I'm not going to have her throwing out random Italian just whenever, because I think it's a little pretentious to announce that someone has a talent, and then make them show off all the time, but she'll do something with it.

Anyone else think it's funny? Adanya is Italian-American; the name Adanya is Nigerian, Natalia is a Latin based name, and Winters is German-English. My character is really, unforgivably screwy. And, insert neat fact, if you Google the name Adanya Winters, _Misplaced_ pops up. No lie.

Also, I'm taking a liberty with Jason Stryker, making him older. Originally, he was slated to be a touch older than Adanya, and put in cryo-freeze as a child, but I realized a dynamic I could use for a jealousy that little boys wouldn't quite get. Little boy Jason wouldn't be as apt to freak out over Wade like older Jason. I know Adanya asked about a little boy, but that's how she remembers him, she doesn't know whether or not he grew up or if she was just hallucinating.


	8. Chapter 8

"I want her to sleep in my room," Jason insisted hotly, pacing back and forth the length of the little cell, avoiding the Spartan decor, every piece of furniture bolted down. He didn't have strength enough to attack anyone, and he was kept fairly sedated after the first two nurses met their demise, but the furniture was bolted down anyway.

"Jason,"

"She's my Sunny girl, she needs to stay with me." He looked ready to lunge at his father, his spindly hands stiff. "You promised!" His voice cracked with adolescent indignation. "She's mine!"

"She's not ready," Stryker soothed. "She's not ready yet; you don't want to _hurt_ her, frighten her, do you?" He stressed the words, watching red flags fly up in Jason's mind. Sunny girl went away when he hurt her before.

"You don't have a place for her either," Davis drawled, his voice thick and lazy. "She can't sleep on the floor." He readied a hypodermic needle with careless ease, not bothering to notice how the boy shuddered.

"She has to stay with me," Jason pleaded, his voice tinged with worry. He didn't like injections. "Right there, like we used to." He was pointing to his bed.

"You wouldn't know what to do with her," Davis chuckled darkly. "You forgot to read the user's manual there, buddy." Lab gossip; it was truly a beautiful thing. Stryker's man-child had all the adult sexual awareness of a pea, but came fairly well equipped, according to Cheryl, the slut.

"She will," Stryker promised, watching Jason carefully. "But she has to be ready," His eyes darkened fractionally; he wasn't used to waiting. "She's not well, Jason, she's afraid."

His mismatched eyes flared. "Of what?"

"She's _afraid_, Jason, you'll have to _keep_ her. _You _have to learn to protect _her_," He emphasized the key words carefully, knowing full well the lengths his son would go, how much destruction he could cause in his quest.

"From what?" His thin, spidery hands clenched into fists. "What's hurting her?"

"Can you protect her, Jason?" He mocked, almost laughing. "Can you learn to slay the dragon and save the princess?"

"Up in the tower," He remembered those games; of rescuing the princess, a soldier falling in love with the pretty army nurse, tying sheets around their shoulders and being superheroes, tea parties and luncheon parties with her giggly friends from her stupid cotillion classes that kept her away all afternoon.

"Yes, she's trapped away in the tower, and they won't let her go." Stryker nodded woefully. "They'll do terrible, horrible things to her. Can you learn, Jason, to save her?"

"Yes!"

"Then allow Doctor Davis to give you the magic," The syringe appeared again, fifty ccs of eerie green liquid that looked thick as gelatin. "To save the princess," Davis swiped an alcohol pad over the crook of an exposed elbow and stabbed, feeding the thick green fluid in slowly.

Jason looked stunned, the poison acting quickly. "Sunny girly's gonna sleep in here with me," He pointed to his bed again. "Right there, like she used to." Her bed was always on the right side of the room, near the windows, where he pointed. The right half of his bed was her side. "Like she wants to," His speech was slurring. "B'longs herr,"

"Of course she will,"

* * *

"Emily, the next time I call you, I expect you to pick up the phone _before_ I almost have to leave a message!" Adanya was beyond irritated. "Yes, I'm fine." She nodded. "No, nobody died." She twisted the phone cord around her fingers. "How's…_Marshall_?" Jimmy saw her wince, visibly. "Emmy, please, you know he's not…you know there's something _wrong_, he'd never do that to me.." She sat up rigidly. "_Emmy_," Her voice was anxious. "Emmy, drive up there and make sure." Breathing shifted, becoming lighter. "Emmy, please!" Her palm went flat on the countertop. "I _know_," She fidgeted, rubbing her side through her clothing. "I know that, and you know why; you _helped_." She hissed. "Emily Grace! You don't even have to go inside, just look in the window of the front parlor," A trembling hand swept dark chocolate curls away from her cheek. "Because that's the room." She sighed, beginning to sniffle. "I'll call you again later, and so help me God, if I hear you didn't do it...have Marty go with." Her eyes closed. "_Emmy!_" She whined the name, twisting the phone cord in her fingers. "Emmy _please_," Her whining took on a childish timbre. "_Pretty please_?" The stiffness eased up along her spine. "I'll see what I can do, I kinda have a weird job now," She brightened fractionally, but her eyes remained somber. "Be careful," She sighed heavily. "Please, _please_ don't do anything stupid to hurt him, Emily, he's not well and it's not his faul…" Her eyes went wide. "Em?"

"You okay?" Jimmy had been keeping half an eye on her, acting as self-appointed guardian.

"She hung up on me." Adanya cradled the receiver, pushing the phone away. "That _bitch_ hung up on me." The dark brown, nubbin pocked sweater fell off her shoulders again, pooling around her waist. "I should slap her."

Wade looked at her expectantly. "So what was today?"

Habit forced her to answer. "Nothing that matters to you," She shrugged the sweater back onto her shoulders, fingers playing around the buttons. It was too large for her, swallowing her shoulders and flattening her already bound chest, and it smelled faintly spicy, like old cologne and dusty books.

"Aren't we the mysterious one?" Wraith teased, still toying with the strings on her guitar. "Secrets don't last around here," He cast a significant glance at her chest. "Don't bother keeping them, myself."

"It doesn't matter to you because it has nothing to do with you," Adanya took a preemptive swipe at her eyes, not meeting Wade's gaze. "Today was important."

"Birthday?" Chris guessed, looking up from his model airplane.

"No," She favored him with a glance, still avoiding looking directly at Wade.

"Funereal, party, graduation, orgy, cook-out, surgery, anniversary of your long-lost goldfishes' next door neighbors' pet frog's bike accident..." Wade watched her, a hand hovering over the hilt of his katana lazily. "Wedding?"

"Shut up," A touch of color came to her wan face.

Dukes perked up. "Who's getting married?"

"Nobody." She fell on the couch, tripping over a pile of empty beer cans. "Leave it alone, _please_." She settled herself on the corner of the cushion, drawing her knees up and tugging the sweater down over her legs, hiding her face in the cuffs. Jimmy heard her inhale deeply and sniffle. "Fucking Emmy,"

Wade had watched her all afternoon, and still found her to be the most interesting thing in the room. "Anya,"

"Leave her alone," Amazingly, it was Victor who spoke up. "You start her up and I'll take both your heads off."

"Anya," He repeated, a touch louder, forcing himself to remain where he was, to at least let her think he could be patient.

"She's still upset," Chris offered, absently making the television flicker. "You ruined her clothes, mate."

"Knock it off, Bradley," Dukes threw a beer can at him, almost jokingly.

"Anya, will you…"

"She's not gonna look at you either," Chris continued, watching her sink deeper into the sweater. "You are not in her good graces today," He caught the plane as it swerved back. "Bet she'd let Victor rip you up good before she thought to help."

"Thank you, Christina, I get it."

"Just sayin'," He let the model plan zoom from his fingertips, circling over their heads. "She's not interested, Wade, give it up and move it along."

"Anya!" He threw a crushed beer can at her, missing her deliberately. "Hello, crazy lady!" In a flash, he launched himself off his chair and knelt before her, peering up at her sweater cuffs. "Hello?" He waved a hand in front of her bowed head. "Can I take off all your clothes and have my way with you? Silence means yes!"

"_Anya!_" Her silence was infuriating, almost to the point of being downright scary. He could handle a lot, but being frozen out was not one of them.

"You could try apologizing," Wraith offered, absently strumming the guitar. "Works most of the time."

"Anya!" Silently, she climbed over the back of the couch and headed for her bedroom.

"Fine," He stood, muscles tense. "_I'm sorry_." The words were short and mocking. "Happy now?"

"When you apologize," She didn't turn around, hand on the doorknob. "And _mean_ it, I'll forgive you." She looked over her shoulder, her eyes red and watery. "Until then, save your breath."

"Don't be like that, I was just having fun," He knew she wasn't crying over him, not this time, but it was still a punch to the gut to see her in pain.

It was enough to make her look. "Fun?" She repeated faintly, distracted from her tears. "What do you do for an encore, kick a puppy? Toss a sack of kittens in the lake? Stick a firecracker up a frog's butt?" Jason had done all those things, until she refused to play with him for the cruelty. "Shoot at birds with a slingshot?"

Wade forced himself to look contrite; in truth he'd done _all_ those things before, and worse. "Where's the fun in that?" Almost as an afterthought. "I like puppies."

"You are such an _ass_!" Her temper flared up again. "I cannot believe you are the same person as the one that was kind and decent and listened to me," She gave him a short, cold look that usually got her an answer. "Where'd he go?"

"Oh Christ, you don't _get_ it, do you?" Wade grinned. "You really don't get it at all,"

"Obviously not, because I mistook you for a human being," Adanya retorted sharply. "All you are is a merc with a mouth," He grinned, exasperating her further. "_You_ are gonna get it one day, Wade Wilson, and it's not gonna be pretty."

"So give it to me," He held his arms out, welcoming her. "C'mon, princess, I'll give you a free one. _Sock it to me_,"

"You are un_believable_," She let go of the doorknob, getting in a decent 'port two feet closer to the hall. To her credit, she regained balance quickly and didn't stumble with each step.

"You'll come back!" Wade taunted jauntily. "You can resist me, sweetheart, I _know_ you."

"You know me?" She spun around, her hair fanning out prettily behind her. "You _know_ me?"

"I know you're always gonna turn your pert little ass around and come right back when I call you," Wade strolled across the room, stepping up to accept her unspoken challenge. "You're _loyal_, Anya, you're _obedient_. You've been trained."

"Funny, you're the one that won't give me any peace."

"I said sorry; don't expect much more."

"Try being _nice_ to me," She tugged the sweater back over her shoulders, stressing the word.

"I am nice to you!" Wade feigned injury, clutching a hand over his heart. "Like yesterday, when Vicky called you weak meat, I totally hocked in his coffee." Behind him, Victor coughed. "And I laughed for both of us when he drank it."

Her expression twitched for a moment, she almost wanted to smile. "Did you really?"

"Would I lie to you?" His face was the picture of boyish innocence, all wide eyes and perfectly pouted lips.

"Yes," The word was out before she could consciously think of it.

"Anya, that hurts."

"So does being stripped in front of a bunch of strange men," Her watery eyes took on a cold, hard cast. "And being teased about it by someone you actually were starting to like."

"We're not strange, we're interesting." He retorted good-naturedly. "Whoa, whoa, hold it sister, _starting to like_?" A faint, maniac grin came to his face. "What kinda _like_ are we talking about here, honeybunch?"

"Walk east until your hat floats," She spun on her heel and walked away, inhaling her stolen sweater deeply. "Asshole."

"When you get back, I'm teaching you new insults!"

* * *

"Her personal issues are conflicting with her sensible duties," Carol Frost set down her reading glasses and pinched the bridge of her nose. "She knows she wants very much to please you, but they scare her." She parroted the same lines she'd given him before, entreating the same pleas. "She's not at home among them, sir, if we could just take her…"

"No," Stryker insisted. "She has to be with them, she has to learn to accommodate herself to him," He tossed a sharp glance over his shoulder. "They have to need each other, Carol, if this is going to work."

"Wouldn't it be easier to just get her drunk?" Davis offered, setting aside his work. "If she's half of what Carol's said, she's already reversed the damage." He snorted. "We'll have to start testing them again, handing out rubbers before every mission, or have her enhance them against disease. God, I don't want to put up with _that_ again."

Stryker ignored him soundly. "Easier, yes, but nowhere near as effective." A small frown came to his lips. "We need him to volunteer, we can't just take him by force; he's too intelligent." A wicked, cunning light came to his eyes. "We need him broken, utterly destroyed by her."

"Sir," Frost felt a thrill shoot down her spine unpleasantly.

"We'll have to break her as well," He smiled. "We have to make her pliable, willing." He turned to the young woman with the sleek ponytail. "Vanessa, get me Malcolm Winters," She nodded, her bobbing head freezing midway at his raised hand. "No, scratch that. Get me Alfred Edgars, in Virginia." A small smile played on his lips. "Chesapeake, Virginia."

"Sir?"

"We're going to arrange a special trip," He favored Davis with a tiny smile. "To push her along the path of destruction."

Frost paled at the implications. "Colonel, _sir_, do you really think it's sensible? She's already so fragile, so _volatile_, how can you be certain she won't take matters into her own hands?" Adanya had confided, in tortured whispers, that she_ couldn't _die; her body wouldn't let her, not by her own hand. "She has the demeanor of a kitten and the temper of a hurricane, do you honestly believe you can control her…" She had the same bitter streak as Emma, but Adanya's was set more for self-destruction than domination. There was a nifty little spot over her jugular, visible only in the right light when her skin was irritated, but she'd _tried_ and that was more than enough for Frost.

"Adanya is a confused _child_, Carol," Stryker spoke with careless ease. "A scared, confused, bewildered little child, and much like Jason, she seeks approval." His voice was smarmy, lingering around downright arrogant. "She is so damningly insecure, she's going to cling to whatever sense of security she can find. If I eliminate all options, she'll have no other choice but to cling to Weapon Eleven, and therefore, provide us with everything we'll need." He smirked archly. "She won't disobey."

"I hope you're right." Carol watched him walk away, Zero following at a distance, as though afraid he was going to catch something. "God help us if she ever catches on." She slid a hand into her pocket and felt the sheet of pills, reminding herself to catch the girl on a good day and start her on them. "Tigers turn on their masters," She wrapped her fingers around the pills. "Tigers wait and lie in rest, you never turn your back." She felt a wave of heat spread up from her palm, clutching the pills. "Give them chance and opening, a tiger will attack."

"What's that?" Vanessa looked at her, her birdy face piqued with interest.

"Nothing, just something the girl was murmuring before,"

* * *

"What do you want from me, Wade?" She felt him, sensed him, coming up the path to the dock a long time before she heard him.

"Hark, the crazy lady speaks." Easily, silently, he came up behind her, studying her curls in the fading glimmers of sunlight through clouds. "I threaten her with mind-blowing sex and she walks away, but I find her at the lake and she loves me once more." He sat down beside her. "You in a better mood now, my grumpy little bunny?"

"I'm…" She lost the urge to fight with him. She craved comfort, not conflict. "Don't you believe in leaving people alone?"

"Nope," He grinned easily. "I'm like chicken pox, soon as you think you're over it, someone else coughs on you and you're itchy again."

"That's a great way to think of yourself," A shake of the head loosened her ponytail. "_Mind blowing sex_; you are so full of it."

"That was heavily censored for your delicate sensibilities," A ghost smile flitted over her face. "You finally over it?"

"No," She shook her head. "But I was raised to believe it's rude to ignore someone when they keep after you, you should at least make small talk." A cloud passed over the sun, casting them in shadow. "I was also raised to believe I should apologize when I act like a brat; I'm sorry I've been overreacting."

"_Understatement_,"

"I'm not okay right now," Her voice was thin, reedy. "I don't have anything right now, not one thing I can _keep_." She fidgeted "I had it. I had a home, and I had something that was mine, and I left." Both hands came up to hide her face, the soft wool tickling her face. "I ran away, and now I don't have anything." From the cuffs, she stole a glance at him "I don't even know if I trust you,"

"Doesn't help much that we keep picking on you, huh?" He almost looked contrite, save for the smile.

"No, it doesn't." She sniffed. "Keep making it worse, making me do stuff." She scuffed the heel of her shoe on the dock angrily. "He knows I don't like doctors, and he knows I'm not supposed to be with boys, and he knows…" Silently, as though she didn't fully realize it was happening again, tears rolled down her cheeks in fat droplets.

"Hey, don't cry."

"I can't help it," She sucked in a shaky breath, wiping her eyes uselessly. "I can't help it."

"I'm a dick, I'm rude, I'm a bastard, I'm a monster," The words came fast and garbled. "Kick me in the face if you want, pull my hair, claw me up; just _don't_ cry." He held both hands up in defense. "God, I hate it when girls cry, everything gets awkward and weird and stop making that face!" His finger jabbed the air in front of her nose. "You stop that, Anya, I mean it."

"Sorry,"

"I don't get you." He'd met crazy, he'd seen crazy, he knew crazy, hell he _was_ crazy, and she was a unicorn of another spectrum entirely. "Will you make sense, _please_, because you're confusing the fuck out of me. Pick an emotion and stick to it, will ya?"

"Sorry," She produced a handkerchief from her skirt pocket and wiped her face, not caring about the 'proper' way to blot her eyes.

"Heard it the first time," He shoulder checked her, glancing up at the darkening sky. Another day wasted. "What's it gonna take to make you smile?"

"More than you've got to negotiate with, unfortunately." A short, choked laugh followed her words. "I don't think a whole lot of people can afford me." She'd learned, very early on, that most people were ill equipped to deal with her, let alone want to attempt for any measure of time.

"Figures," His tone turned cold and bitter. "Too good for me, huh?"

Adanya froze, recognizing that line. It seemed like yesterday, like she was thirteen all over again and Marshall Edward Desrosiers cornered her in the library. _Too good for me, huh? Margaret tell you that? You think she knows me? _A tall, bitter man._ Too good for me, huh? Your loss, Belle. _She blushed. "If it's any consolation, you're a really good kisser,"

The charm clicked back on with a lift of his eyebrows. "How many people have you been kissing, missy?"

"Family count?" She countered, lifting her eyebrows.

"Nope,"

"Then I've kissed…six people." She could remember their names and ages, but she could never remember the whys or wherefores of how the kisses happened.

"That's not bad," He'd almost expected her to have kissed one or two, never six. "I've done like thirteen or fourteen." Easily, he could recall the first and last girls he'd really locked lips with, Nessa and Anya, but none of them between.

"Hmm," She nodded. "Thought you'd have more than that." She sniffed again, absently wiping her nose on her sleeve. "Jimmy told me you get around," Jimmy told her a lot of nasty little things about Wade, sordid little comments, trying to discourage the attraction.

"Kissing's different than fucking," He stated bluntly, despite her wide-eyed reaction. "Kissing's…_intimate_. I mean, I can put on a condom and fuck anything that I feel like fucking," She giggled softly, her cheeks turning pink at his frankness. "But you can't really find a condom for your lips, y'know?"

"So what's that say about me?" She teased. "The sneak attack the other night,"

"You kissed back, missy, you liked it." There was no accusation in his voice, just gentle mirth.

"What's it say?" She studied him in profile, gorgeous and tan, achingly vulnerable beneath the dark skin and flashy smile.

"That says I'm going to tame you," Wade declared definitively. "And you will be my Anya."

"Okay," She looked out at the dark, choppy water, disbelieving.

"You know if I tame you, I have to keep you." He followed her gaze out on the water, not daring to look directly at her. She was one of those rare, spooky people, the kind that made him feel vulnerable without intending to, but he could never see himself killing her for it.

"What?" She turned her head, looking at him with wide eyes. It was spooky, sometimes, how he could read her mind.

A pent up breath escaped him; she was the same. "Well you can't just tame something and set it loose; it won't know what to do." Mockingly, he tweaked her nose. "You'd be lost again,"

"If you tame me, you'll need me." Neither of them was quite sure if that was a warning or a promise. "You'll start to depend upon me, and I'll depend on you." She sighed delicately, choosing her words carefully. "To me, you are still nothing more than a little boy who is just like a hundred thousand other little boys. And I have no need of you. And you, on your part, have no need of me. To you, I am nothing more than a fox like a hundred thousand other foxes. But if you tame me, then we shall need each other. To me, you will be unique in all the world. To you, I shall be unique in all the world…"

Wade arched a brow. "But if you tame me, it will be as if the sun came to shine on my life. I shall know the sound of a step that will be different from all the others. Other steps send me hurrying back underneath the ground. Yours will call me, like music out of my burrow. And then look: you see the grain-fields down yonder? I do not eat bread. Wheat is of no use to me. The wheat fields have nothing to say to me. And that is sad. But you have hair that is the color of gold. Think how wonderful that will be when you have tamed me! The grain, which is also golden, will bring me back the thought of you. And I shall love to listen to the wind in the wheat. . ."

Anya smiled faintly. "_The Little Prince_," It was among her primary reading books, when Marshall had her learning French, and she'd loved it better in the native tongue than she did the translation.

"Heard it when I was younger," He tugged on her hair gently. "Too bad you're not blonde, or that would have worked better." His mother had blonde hair, he mused absently, and peachy smooth skin, and big blue eyes…she was nothing like Anya, except for her warm and loving nature.

"You're going to tame me?"

"Yes,"

"You must be very patient," She nearly laughed, recalling the story as easily as though she'd just set down the book. "First you will sit down at a little distance from me -like that- in the grass. I shall look at you out of the corner of my eye, and you will say nothing. Words are the source of misunderstandings. But you will sit a little closer to me, every day..." As if to emphasize her point, she scooted away a touch.

"Anya,"

"You become _responsible_, forever, for what you have tamed." She leaned in, brushing her lips over his cheek almost imperceptibly lightly. "Sleep well, little prince." Perhaps, just maybe, kinda-sorta, gosh-I-hope-so, Wade Wilson could be her redemption. Silently, she rose and walked away, leaving the little prince alone in the moonlight.

* * *

"What've you got so far?" Adanya sat across from Jimmy the next afternoon, curled up on the couch with a well-loved novel, reading while she twisted a lock of hair around her finger absently.

"I can do a light bulb trick and turn on the radio." She looked exhausted, brushing her hair back out of her eyes. "I can teleport three feet before I get sick, and I can almost get Victor's claws." Her nails wouldn't shift to talons like his, but rather arched up in the middle and grew out into points. "I can't do yours, my left arm won't work." Three reddish pink gashes were still in the healing process, wrapped up in gauze. "Broke it when I was younger, there's a bone-ridge in the way." The doctor that set her arm hadn't quite gotten it perfect, and her father wouldn't permit him to break it again to reset it. "They won't go straight like yours, they arc up and out." She let the bandage fall, showing him the progress she'd made. She was exhausted; the healing was taking longer than usual. "Hurts like a beast, so I gave up."

"Mind?" He reached for her arm without thinking.

"Go ahead," Her brow furrowed, and the tissues beneath his fingers seemed to cleave away neatly, leaving only a thin, almost transparent layer of flesh between his hand and the bones of her forearm.

"Weird way to break it," He could see the spider webbing of fracture from the break, the budge of bone ribbed up and over in a short arch. Adanya hissed, her teeth sinking into her lower lip, the wound sealing itself over. It healed, but she could still recreate the wound. Odd.

"Little girls aren't supposed to climb trees," The flesh slid back neatly. "They fall out and break their arms." She examined her skin again, sighing as she wound the bandage around her elbow.

"You can't break your arm like that falling out of a tree," He helped her wrap, knotting the gauze loosely. "Somebody twisted it."

"Little girls aren't supposed to climb trees," She repeated stiffly. "Little girls are supposed to be silent and sweet and obedient, we're not supposed to go about ruining our pinafores climbing trees, we're supposed to sit beneath them and play tea party, push our dollies around in strollers and giggle about being mommies." She made the word sound dirty

"You didn't wanna be a mommy?"

"I wanted to have fun. I wanted to run around and laugh and play with my friends, I didn't want to put diapers on my dolls and act like I was burping them." The concept had been utterly alien to her, even when someone else's mother had explained how joyful it would be, when they all grew up and had babies of their own.

"Had to be hard, growing up without your mother," There were some obvious cracks in her psyche; being force-fed saccharine house-frau crap, taught to be afraid of everyone and everything around her…

"No worse than growing up without a father," She rolled her eyes. "Stay on the sidewalk, Adanya. Play nice with other _girls_, Adanya. Meet a _nice_ boy, Adanya, none of those greasers," She mimicked coldly. "Good girls don't _cry_, Adanya," Her voice trembled. "Brave girl, good girl, _princess_," Venom laced the word. "Adanya, the reason the men go off to fight wars is for girls like _you_. We have to leave, Adanya, so you can be _safe_. Have to leave to _protect _you, I'll take you with me next time, army's no place for a woman." A light flush of anger rose to stain her cheeks. "Stay with Maggie, she'll look after you," The color rose to the crests of her cheeks and darkened. "Be _good_, Adanya, men don't want nasty girls. _Decent_ men don't make their beds with dirty sheets, little girl."

"I don't want to be good! I'm sick of being good!" Her hands gripped into fists. "I finally got away; I was almost free." So close, so damningly close, and he'd gone and spoiled everything for want of a nail. "I almost made it."

"You can't help what you were taught," Jimmy turned soft, pitying eyes on her. "It's gonna take time to move past it." He stroked a hand over her hair. "Can't change your spots overnight, punkin', I don't care how much bleach you use."

She calmed, a shiver flickering out under the place his big hand rested. "Easy for you to say, you don't care what people think," She smiled inwardly; men, they were almost all alike. Fierce and strong and brutal, attack and they'll kill, swing and they'll knock you on your ass, but shove a crying girl in their midst and they melted. "Wade told me you run around naked sometimes."

"He's done it too," He figured, until he stopped bothering to look up, he'd seen more of naked Wade Wilson than any man should have the right to. "I've been around too long to worry about what other people think," Everything added up and evened out in the end, didn't mean anything more than something new to look at.

"How old _are_ you?"

"Old enough," He flashed a grin at her expression. "Was born back in the early eighteen hundreds, up in Canada."

"Damn," In her head, she added up figures and let out a low whistle. "You look good for a dinosaur,"

Jimmy shrugged; he'd long since grown used to being the oldest, if not among the oldest, man in the room. "So, how's your friend Marshall?" She flinched. "You called to check up on him last night, you must be worried."

"He needs to be worried about; he's sick, he's…not well," She sighed and let guilt flow over her. "I left him alone in that big empty house," She bit her lower lip. "I should've stayed, but he was…" Her words trailed off gently, a hand stealing to trace the neckline of her shirt. "He made me."

"What's he like?"

"He's tall and gangly and he looks like a cute version of Ichabod Crane," She blushed faintly. "You want to see a picture?" She kept one, apparently, in her copy of _The Scarlet Letter_. "That's him, with me and Emmy," A tall, thin man, with dark eyes peering out of a gaunt face framed in chin length dark hair, stood between a pair of teenage girls; one blonde and sour looking, the other Adanya. "What d'you think?" She looked hopeful, craving his approval earnestly.

Adanya and Emmy were perched on a wide, flat, plank swing, but their clothing suggested cooler weather, late fall perhaps. Emmy wore a light fawn, fleece-lined jacket, while Adanya and Marshall both were bundled in scarves and long dusters. "Not my type, punkin," He studied their faces more closely, the age difference more obvious. "Looks like a poet." He also looked a lot older than Adanya and Emmy, an arm draped around the former while the latter looked peeved. Marshall looked tall and elegantly composed, a whipcord lean man with large hands and narrow shoulders. He might have stood a head taller than Adanya, but looked too thin and sickly pale to be her hero.

"He writes poetry, songs, newspaper articles and short stories," As far as she knew, no other girl had ever seen his work. "He can play piano, violin, and cello." He could play any number of instruments, if he bothered to try. "He composes music too, it's what made me notice him," She blushed when Jimmy lifted an eyebrow. "Well, _another_ part of what made me notice him." She tucked the photo away secretively. "He made me a record for my birthday, I'm the only person to have one. Beautiful voice, even if he's just talking, it's like magic." Obviously lost in her thoughts, she kept going. "He had a music box made for me, for the sonata he wrote after we met, I had to leave it behind."

"Hmm,"

"You know all about me," Her cheeks were still stained pink. "What about you?"

"Not much to say,"

"Liar," She tucked her picture away secretively. "You've been around long enough, you've got a few stories."

"Nothing for you," He had stories, long and yammering tales she'd never understand, things that were meant to be discussed over beers, some that should never be related to a slip of a girl, let alone said aloud. He could give her nightmares; make her scream like he threw her in the closet again.

"Liar," She repeated darkly. "Bet you know my dad," She bit her lower lip. "Everyone knows my dad."

"Wade doesn't like him," He wasn't so crazy about General Winters either, if Adanya's emotional outbursts were any indication of his parenting skills.

"Not many boys do," Shrug of the shoulders. "Most of my girlfriends think he's…_sexy_, in an older-man sort of way." Her nose wrinkled. "I don't get it, but I guess he's sexy."

"I have the same problem punkin'," Jimmy deadpanned, smiling when she broke into a fit of giggles.

* * *

"Woo hoo, take it off!" Wade cheered, once they were aloft, and Adanya stripped off her jacket in favor of a sweatshirt. Their latest mission was very hush hush, with little prep time, not even enough warning to pack a bag. They left with what they had, and mercifully, it was warm weather.

"Oh shut up," Her tee shirt rode up high, revealing the gauze bandages wrapped around her bandeau.

"I see tummy," He leaned forward and grazed her with his fingertips.

"You're gonna see my boot in a minute," Adanya pulled the sweatshirt on roughly, kicking Wade's shin.

"How come you're not screaming?" Dukes watched her sit down, flipping her hair out of the back of her top.

"I'm not naked," She smoothed down her shirt. "I don't feel violated, I'm in control of what's being seen," She shrugged, rubbing her palms up and down her arms. "It's not so bad, if it's one or two people, I can handle that, but when it's all of you and one of me..."

"Well if it makes you feel any better, next time I'll get naked with you." Wade offered, looking contrite and sweet.

"Somehow that doesn't even sound like it should work." Adanya threw him a critical look. "Not even remotely."

"Never know until you try," Bradley piped up, from the front of the plane.

"Don't encourage him." She scowled when Wade laughed. "Please, Chris, I like you, don't encourage him."

"So you really know nine languages?" He called back, once their autopilot was stable. He'd keep an eye on controls, but he could carry on a conversation if he wanted.

"I learned early," She was wary of telling them everything she was capable of, because nobody liked 'little miss perfect' and it was hard enough being a pet project.

"Which ones?" Wade, to Bradley's knowledge, spoke six or seven, but refused to state which.

"Fluently, I speak Italian, English, French, German, Portuguese, Spanish, Lithuanian, Russian, and much to my father's chagrin, Korean." She heard so much of it, listening to men scream about injustice and bastards and fucking zipperheads and kinks, and gooks…it was just easier to learn the language itself. "I pick them up easy,"

"Wow," Even North looked impressed. "Why so many?"

"International nannies," Adanya replied in a bored tone. She knew it all sounded impressive, but it was a pain to learn passable German and then get a new house-frau that only spoke Russian, or move in with a Swedish speaking woman and her American husband. "My grandmother was part Lithuanian, I know curses and insults pretty well, but conversation is rusty; I have to be spoken to before I can say something." She shrugged, tucking her hair behind her ear. "I started learning Greek, but I lost interest."

"Say something in Italian," Bradley looked up from the control panel. "Say something pretty."

"_Qualcosa di molto_,"

"What was that?" Wraith looked up from under his hat, half asleep.

"Something pretty," She smiled.

He grinned back, his smile a slice of white in his dark face. "You're cute, Addy."

"I like you too," She leaned back, settling into her sweatshirt "Please don't fuck it up."

* * *

"Annie," Dukes threw a penny at her head, hitting her cheek. "You sleeping?"

"Huh?" She'd fallen asleep, lulled by the warmth of her clothing and the gentle, boring rock of the plane, stretched over three seats. "Are we there?"

"You don't like your body, do you?" She stared at him, still foggy from her nap.

"That was subtle." North was polishing his gun, again, for lack of something better to do.

"Why not?"

"Fred," She looked alarmed, vulnerable and open in her prone position.

"Nothing wrong with it," He looked her over, stretched across the seats. "I like it."

"You want a peppermint?" She sat up quickly, jamming her hand in her pocket for a sweet. "They aid digestion and make your breath sweeter,"

"Don't change the subject, answer the question." Wade, in the seat next to her, was honing his katana again, with short _snaps_ of his wrist.

"I think I want my graham crackers," A flush of color was creeping up her neck, her hands were clammy. "I feel nauseas again,"

"Sit down," Wade grabbed her hips, jerking her back down on her seat. "And answer the man's question,"

"You are just determined to see if I can blush myself to death, aren't you?" She gave Wade a cold look. "I don't think it's possible, but I'm not volunteering to try."

"You really are pretty, Annie." Fred continued, undaunted. "I liked what I saw."

"You called me Annie," She lifted an eyebrow. "I thought I was Danny." She paused a moment. "Is there something wrong with Adanya?"

"You're a girl," Dukes shrugged.

"Always have been," She looked troubled, plucking at her shirt carefully. "You just saw proof,"

"Why don't you just reprogram?" North cracked, in a snide voice. "Isn't that what you do?"

"I tried," She glared at him. "I can't; it reverses when I lose concentration." A sigh followed her grudgingly admitted weakness. "It's the stupidest thing ever; I can switch the color of my eyes, or slim down my hips or bulk up muscles, but I can't permanently shrink my chest," She crossed her arms over her chest, leaning back. "I can make myself taller, smaller, thinner, fatter, just about any color…I think God cut a deal with the Devil on this one, just for kicks."

"What are you, a C cup?" Wade popped a stick of her gum in his mouth to accompany the one he'd stolen from her earlier.

"Wade!"

"You look like a C." He grinned when she glared. "Bet your girlfriends hate you," She'd taken up with binding again, but he knew what he saw. "Thirty-four C, am I right?" She blushed. "I am, aren't I? _Nice_."

"You are a complete bastard, aren't you?" Adanya sighed. "You know, this isn't how you tame things; you have to be kind, not vicious."

"Tame?" Victor grinned. "Wadey's gonna tame you, princess?" A harsh choking laugh, like his throat was layered thickly with rust. "Put a little bow around your neck and everything?"

"Not a bow, but one of those cute little collars with the jingle bell, so I can hear her when she's walking up the hallway."

"And I'm going to put a ring through his nose and lead him around like a poodle," Adanya countered, tossing him another look over her shoulder.

"What's wrong with big breasts?" Jimmy watched her face carefully, for any sign of her thoughts. "I thought girls loved it when they filled out, makes 'em look grown up."

"Watch, she hates her bush too," Victor cracked snidely. "Don'tcha princess? You hate bein' grown up," He glanced at her lean, denim covered legs. "You start eating, you might look like a woman," His taste ran more along the curvy; she missed padding in several crucial places. She had the height to pull off her measurements, but her form was lacking the right softeness.

"I was taught that the size of the breasts is reflective of a woman's sins," She ignored Victor pointedly. "And if you all could see, then you'd know, and if you know how bad I am, you'd treat me differently, and nobody wants _that_ kind of girl hanging around."

"Addy," A collective hush had fallen over the plane.

"I'm supposed to meet someone and marry him, and just be with that one person for the rest of my life," She'd been told that, time and again, since she could sit up and understand lessons. "Not tromp the world with mercenaries and be naked,"

"That's fucking boring," Wade looked disgusted. "What's the point, it'd be like sawing off your dick at the base."

"I'm not supposed to be naked in front of strange men," She repeated, watching him roll his eyes. "I'm not supposed to undress for anyone, or expose myself, or let anyone put their hands on me," She'd broken all those rules before, but she'd done it on her own, nobody had forced her hand. "I'm not supposed to...explore myself, or _look_." Feeling uncomfortable, she brought her knees up to her chest. "It's not right."

"Why not?" Jimmy kept watching her despite the slow, dark snarl Victor gave.

"They never said why it's a sin," She spoke through her knees. "They just said not to."

"So you listened." Disgust, laced with pity, was thick in his voice.

"Every time I disobey, something bad happens." She locked her eyes on his. "The closet, the belt, the ruler," She could recall clearly the day Bridget had broken the ruler over her knuckles, then went and fetched another. "My left tibia was broken because I was climbing trees with the other kids, I'm sorry if I think it's better to do what I'm told."

"Who broke your arm?"

"My nanny," She rubbed her arm, a twinge of phantom pain lancing through her bones. "She twisted until it broke, so I'd learn."

"Why?"

"Because I disobeyed." She looked at him, exasperated. "Nobody ever punished you?" They all had some age on her, and boys got it more than girls; why did it seem so odd that she was the only one own up to being punished.

"Take a look at me," Fred lifted his arms, displaying his muscular bulk nonchalantly. "You think anybody got it in their head to take me on? Look around, Annie, _nobody_ fucks with us."

"Yeah, bunch of mercenaries," She did look, and none of them was perturbed. "And one girl."

"My old man liked his belt too," Chris offered up quietly. "But girls don't get _belted_," He'd only ever seen his sister paddled once, but never belted. "Girls aren't supposed to be whipped,"

"They caught me looking at a book of ana-anat-_anatomy_," A little shiver went down her spine. "And I was belted so hard I couldn't sit down for a week." She had to eat kneeling on the floor beside the table, much to her father's despise, slept on her stomach like a tramp, and had to take showers instead of baths, which was apparently marginally better anyhow, she had less time to dwell on herself.

"For what, reading?"

"I took off my dress and was comparing myself to the book," She replied, with forced causality. "It was bad, you're not supposed to do that, ever." Girls were never supposed to look _down there_, let alone touch; it was a sin worthy of hell. "I think he would have killed me if Diane hadn't stopped him, and Jason too, because Jason gave me the book." It was the first time she'd been hit with a book, a resounding _thwack_ across her face that knocked out two of her baby teeth.

"Your dad?"

"Uh-huh," She nodded miserably, a hand lifting to rub away the phantom pain in her jaw. "Because his little girl had her fingers where a girls' fingers shouldn't be unless she's washing,"

"Only you could make that sound cute and tragic at the same time," Wade offered the semblance of comfort, smoothing a hand over her dark curls. "No wonder you're so cracked."

"Only _you_ could make that sound like a compliment," She glanced at him, ignoring the flush of warmth from his hand. "I think I'd be offended if anyone else even thought that."

"Told you we make sense together," He looked down at his blade quickly, light refracting in bright glimmers.

"I'm damaged goods," She sat back; positive she'd found another way to keep him at a distance. "Find yourself someone _worth_ making sense with, not the screwed up kid you feel sorry for." She flicked a pointed gaze at Jimmy. "Love's not the same as pity,"

Wade poked her, hard, in the side. "No you're not," If anyone was damaged goods, it was _him_, not her. "It's the seventies; smoke some grass and let yourself go." He grinned. "Orgasm, it's fun."

"I wish it was that easy, I'd drop out and be a hippie." She laughed a little, imagining herself topless and wandering freely around someplace like Woodstock. "Burn my bra and never wear stockings again, I'd be such a wild woman."

"Could be," He slid the katana back into the sheath, settling his attention on her. "Just stop being such a tweak and ease up," He leaned in, and she obliged by turning her head. "I don't bite until you ask me to."

"Ease up," She gave a hollow laugh. "You just want me to take off my underwear,"

"I left them on for a reason,"

"You're _such_ a gentleman," Wade laid a hand on his chest in false modesty. "When you're not being an asshole." Laughter broke out around them.

"Aah, you love me and you know it," He grinned, undaunted. "How much do you love me, Anya?"

"This much." She held up her hand, thumb and forefinger held together to indicate a pinch.

"That much?" Wade grinned at her, maddeningly smug.

"That's it," She hugged her arms around her legs, looking away from him.

"Wade and Annie, sittin' in a tree," Dukes started up, until she kicked out at him.

"Oh shut up," She flashed him a murderous look, aiming another kick for his belly.

"You think I'm gorgeous," Wade sang. "You want to kiss me, you want to hug me, you want to smooch me," She giggled. "You want to _love_ me."

"I love all lost little creatures," Adanya sighed. "And tigers with soulful dark eyes," Her knees came down from her chest, she actually looked like she might crawl over the seats and onto his lap. "And little princes who tame foxes,"

"Jesus," Adanya turned, watching Victor, who'd been quiet all day. "Somebody distract Stryker for me while I put the princess out of her misery, will ya?"

Wade slung an arm around her shoulders. "Stick with me kid, I'll make you a star."

"Never heard that one before," She rolled her eyes and leaned over his lap, reaching for the abandoned dossier on a vacant seat. "Where are we going anyway?"

"Delgado Industries; Deep Creek, Virginia," Bradley handed her the dossier. "Apparently, they have a big hunk of the space rock and some fairly kooky chemicals."

"But…that's _in_ Chesapeake," Adanya looked over the map, recognizing everything. She and Emmy used to go up to Delgado for church bake sales, flirt with the men. "Sir, that's in Chesapeake; I went to Deep Creek High School," She waited until Stryker turned his head, gave her eye contact. "There's _nothing_ in Deep Creek,"

"Yes, it is," He flashed her a brief, winning smile. "Odd coincidence, don't you think, that you lived so close to a potentially deadly area?"

"Yeah, pretty kooky." She handed the information off, pulling her sleeves down around her palms, suddenly cold. "We won't be long, will we?" It was Friday; the town would be at the football game until ten, then every bar on Main Street would be packed like a can of sardines, the school dance would let out and everyone would mill around town and fish the drunks out of the lake until at least midnight. No place to park but up on the Point, and at least six girls would be getting to know their hunky jock boyfriends on a whole new level.

"No longer than necessary, if all goes as planned." He shrugged, an un-Stryker like move. "Perhaps an overnight stay, if all goes well."

She felt all the blood drain from her face, her skin going ice cold. "Kay," Slowly, she leaned forward until her head was between her knees, hands gripping her ankles. Deep Creek overnight, she could handle that, she'd just stick to someone like fly paper and skirt the edges of town.

"You gon' puke?" Dukes asked, around a mouthful of jerky. Adanya felt a huge, warm, calloused hand stroke the back of her neck and knew it was him.

"No," Her voice was muffled, tiny. "I'm just not feeling so hot anymore," Everyone in Deep Creek knew her by name, if not face.

* * *

I quoted **Miss Congeniality**; anybody wager a guess as to where?

So I was doing some math, because I like to have a decent time frame, and either I, or **X-Men Origins: Wolverine** tweaked it up seriously. The opening title says 1848, but in the prison cell, Stryker says they've (James and Victor) been alive for over a hundred and fifty years. Simple addition tells us that 1848 plus 150 is 1998. Nothing in the film is indicative of the Nineties; it's all a quasi Seventies theme and vibe, up until the six-year jump into the Eighties (or was it a jump from Sixties to the Seventies?), with Scott Summers in high school. Summers, in **X-2**, looks to be in his early thirties-ish, which makes sense with him being in high/junior high school in the 80s. But this too doesn't make much sense, because the Three Mile Island Nuclear accident occurred in 1979… (partial core meltdown; clever of them to work that in, what with blaming it on Weapon XI and all) …In **X-2**, Stryker mentions piloting Black Ops missions in 'Nam, (jab at Senator Kelly, apparently born in or around 1969) but the Vietnam War ran from 1959 to 1975…(my head hurts a little right now)

I should've looked further into this before I decided this would be set in '77, but I'm keeping it and I'll just work around the kinks.

I quoted, rather heavily, from **The Little Prince** a children's story by Antoine de Saint-Exupery. I quoted passages, and re-quoted them down here for clarity.

"To me, you are still nothing more than a little boy… To you, I shall be unique in all the world…" / "But if you tame me… And I shall love to listen to the wind in the wheat. . ." / "You must be very patient… But you will sit a little closer to me, every day..." / "You become responsible, forever, for what you have tamed." I thought it was important, here, to really mark it down that Wade's making his move as a friend, _then_ as a lover. (waves little cheer banner) Yay Wade!

Deep Creek and Chesapeake are actual locations in the state of Virginia; however, I'm pretty sure they aren't Cook County. When I planned that, I didn't plan on naming the actual state, so that's shenanigans on my part. Also, Deep Creek High is home to the _Hornets_, not the Cougars, but the Cook County Hornets just didn't have the same cheer potential. There might be a deleted scene with some Hornet/Cougar rivalry, but I'm not sure yet.

My tiger rhyme is so bad, but I wanted it to sound childish. If I can think up the rest, I'll include it someplace soon.

Giant smacking kisses to anyone who can guess who/what Marshall was, and who his middle name is a tribute to.

And lastly, **coin toss time**. If you review; please end with, or include heads or tails to help me decide the origin of the scar on Adanya's left breast.


	9. Chapter 9

"You're all tense and moody again," Wade snuck up behind her, silent as a ghost, breathing on the back of her neck. "What's wrong now, Anya?"

"I don't like Chesapeake," She folded her arms under her breasts, shivering. "There's too many ghosts here." She cast a dark look over her shoulder, the sounds of the football game carrying up to them easily, the crowd roaring with pleasure. "Can we just get in, get out and leave?" She cast a pleading look to her left. "There's nothing to do here, anyhow."

"Patience, Adanya," Stryker patted her head, giving her another oily smile.

She scowled at him. "There's not even anybody inside," The entire building was a dead cell, as it was every Friday night there was a football game, even the security took off for the game. "If they even have what you're after, how do you know you can get to it?"

"Anybody alive, anyway." Victor muttered, watching North hungrily, as the lithe man disabled the alarms on the fence.

"Pardon?" Adanya paled, feeling her insides curdle. "Alive?"

"Dead, princess, the opposite of living." He flashed her a wry grin, fangs gleaming. "Figured even you coulda gotten that one,"

"They're doing stuff to…people?" The gates swung open, clanging against the fence noisily. "People's bodies?"

"Grow a pair, princess, dead shit don't feel anything." Victor pushed past her brusquely, a noise of dissent in his throat.

"Still," She looked thoroughly perturbed. Once upon a time, going to the Delgado plant was fun and simple, and most of Chesapeake knew someone that worked there, and nobody ever had a problem with the way things were. Half the town showed up for the company picnics. Now she was hearing about weird science involving dead bodies, or worse.

Wade strolled over casually. "Maggie live nearby?"

Adanya exhaled between her teeth. "In town," She pointed at the road behind them, long and straight into darkness. "Up the drag, right into the heart of Chesapeake, then take a left off Main Street, two blocks down, make a right on Elm and look for the white fence with yellow roses." Almost central to everything worth walking to in town, but anyplace she really wanted to go, she and Emmy would get rides from the sheriff, or Marty. "Margaret Merriman Thatcher, piano lessons and Bible study." It was all written, pertly and in white, on a sign beside the front screen door, above a vase of flowers. "Why, you feel the need for a lesson?" A ghost smile flitted over her face briefly. "Bet she'd _bathe_ you in holy water,"

"Just keeping you off the beaten path's good enough for me." He replied cheerfully. "Just wonderin' whose house to T.P."

"Aw," Another loud, echoing cheer cut off the rest of her statement. Adanya looked over her shoulder again. "Cougars scored another touchdown," Inwardly she sighed, wishing she was back among the crowd, stuffed between Emily and Marty with a bunch of sweaty shirtless fans in front of her. "Go team."

Wade flung his arms out, striking a jaunty pose. "Gimme a two, four, six, eight; you can watch me mastur—"

Adanya looked at him, eyes wide. "No,"

"Well fine, miss pom poms, let's see you do better." He thrust out a hip and laid his hand on it, looking her up and down. "Let's see it then,"

"I was not a cheerleader, I was on the pep squad." Adanya sniffed primly, tossing her ponytail over her shoulder. "So there,"

"Difference?" Bradley grinned at her. "I thought all you rah-rahs were the same."

"Longer skirts and thicker sweaters." She stepped up beside Stryker, looking up at the building. She knew the codes for the power box, the safety blanket for the building. If the power box wasn't operational, nothing inside would be, not even the floodlights. "Dukes, give me a boost?" She looked over her shoulder, indicating his hands should go around her waist. "I can stand up on the overhang, I just need a…" She squealed sharply when Fred scooped his hands up around her hips, tossing her up lightly like a rag doll.

Easily, she caught the framework and held, about to swing her legs up when a large, warm hand flattened against her rear and pushed her up, hard. Adanya clambered up onto the narrow stretch, surprised and blushing, glad she couldn't see anyone, or be seen. Her face burned scarlet, and she was more than happy nobody was laughing at her.

Wade's voice below mingled fury and wit. "He goosed my girl, can I take his sac off?"

"No," Stryker's voice was rich with amusement. "You may not."

"That was not code for…" Adanya leaned over the edge, glaring at Dukes amusedly.

Fred grinned up at her shamelessly, holding his big arms out in a supplicating gesture. "Didn't want'cha to fall, Annie, had to grab something."

"Sure you did," Easily, she flipped open the box and began pressing in the main code, stupidly programmed with the same number as their telephone. One of Emmy's flings was a technician, and told them all about Delgado's innards.

"Aw, don't be like that." He watched her squirm under his attention, leaning over the edge to brace herself on his shoulders. "You got a cute little butt," The lights snapped on when Zero flipped a switch.

"Can I go home now?" She looked to Stryker helplessly, allowing Dukes to lift her down. "I'm feeling some cramps coming on, I need to go lay down with some ice cream and a Frankie Avalon record."

"You're lying," Wade rolled his eyes, smirking at her discomfort. "Wait'll you get it in the shower room." She blushed, trying her damnedest not to imagine Wade naked. "_Bow chicka wow wow_," He laughed. "Look at Anya blush, bet you're thinking dirty thoughts."

She glared at him indignantly. "Am not. I'd tell you to check, but you'd stick your hand down there and do it." That comment earned her a snort of surprised laughter from Jimmy.

"I know you're lying," Wade shook his head, grinning at her wolfishly. "You're not on the rag; Victor _still_ doesn't like you."

* * *

"Delgado honeycombs from the main hall, here." Stryker laid out a map, while Chris aimed the light over them. "The activity we're looking for is here," He indicated a cluster of rooms on the ground floor. "Here," Another sector on the third. "And here," He stabbed the map with finality, in the testing rooms. "Wade and Adanya will take the third floor, Chris and Wraith will take the test sight; Dukes, you take the ground floor. Victor and Logan will run interference. Zero will be with me here." He indicated the labs. "Take anything resembling the adamantium compound, anything pertaining to the compound, any keys or codes," He looked around at the huddle. "Understood?"

Wade chuckled. "Ready…break!" He slapped his hands together, jerking Adanya off to the left with him. "C'mon babe, let's blow this Popsicle stand while the night's still young enough to do something," She followed him down the hall, flicking on lights as they walked, throwing a glance over her shoulder. Jimmy stumped along behind them silently, keeping close to the wall, eying each door he passed.

"Jimmy, I thought you were on guard with Victor?" Adanya slowed down for a moment, looking at him curiously. "What'cha doing following us?"

Jimmy caught her wrist, whirling her around in a clumsy spin that set her well off balance, tripping over her own feet as she leaned on him. She looked up from her awkward angle. "If we're going to dance, I need to change my shoes." Ahead of them, Wade disappeared around a corner.

Jimmy nodded tersely, looking pleased. "Come on," He steered her into an empty room, ignoring her protests.

"Does the word _subtlety_ mean anything to you?" Adanya grumped, squirming. "I can walk, you know, I have full use of my legs," She wriggled in his grasp like a snake, prying at his fingers.

"How long you been at it?" He caught her waist, hefting her up on a table.

"At what?" Adanya looked annoyed. "You keep manhandling me, I'm likely to bruise," She rubbed her wrist ruefully.

"Ignoring what bothers you," He braced his hands on either side of her legs, staring directly into her eyes. "Pretending it's all well and good," His blue eyes were dark, the color of midnight sky. "You better fess up now, little girl, before I find out what's wrong with you the hard way."

"Is that a problem, because it seems to work pretty well." She cast a look of disdain at his tactic, swinging her leg idly, kicking him. "Nobody else bitches when the girl does good."

He eased up accordingly, leaning back to give her space. "You're gonna give yourself ulcers," His tone lightened considerably. She was like Wade; she could keep her secrets when she wanted to, threats didn't matter much when she had the power of silence on her side.

"Jimmy, I'm biokinetic. I haven't been to a regular doctor since I was little, and I've never had to." She replied firmly, glaring at him. " I _don't_ get sick, I don't need doctors." She made the word a filthy epithet. "I don't get ulcers or chicken pox or bronchitis. I don't even get the sniffles, let alone get an _ulcer_." She looked skyward, upset and confused and angry. "Takes a lot to hurt me, stress never did a thing before."

"Broke your arm," He reminded coolly. "Knocked out a few teeth along the way, I'll bet." There was something off about her smile, perfect and even as it was, her teeth didn't look _right_ for some reason. "You tear yourself up pretty good in a firefight, even if you fix it the next morning."

"I was younger, I didn't have any control." Her nose twitched and she looked uncomfortable. "I did a lot when I was little, I couldn't undo it as easily. Now it's just higher impact and bigger payoff."

"Hmph." She looked like a kid again, sniffly and chastised. "You're in over your head."

She met his gaze coolly. "I know."

"You're not made for this."

A nod of agreement. "I know that too." Her voice remained level.

Jimmy faltered, expecting more of a fight from the scrapper. "You can't reprogram yourself to be a mercenary."

"Neither can you," She retorted, with a touch of venom. "You're not a monster, Jimmy, you don't like this like Victor and Wade do." She looked miserable. "None of us do,"

"Guess we're both fucked, huh?" He patted her knee, unsure of his next move. "I just don't want to wake up one morning and see you swinging from the rafters," His voice was low and gruff. "Seen a lot of kids like you go out that way," And it was usually him to cut the kid down while someone puked up their breakfast. Different, seeing one of your own dead; shoot all the bastards you like and sleep well, but the morning you see so-and-so bleeding out in the shower, suddenly death was a horror and no number of smokes could cure your insomnia.

"You won't find me hanging from the rafters," Adanya sighed, looking up at the ceiling remorsefully. "It doesn't work." Another deep, bleak sigh. "Stryker wants to keep me around, so we'll both have to get used to it." She hopped off the table, looking over her shoulder. "And next time, somebody's telling _me_ a story."

* * *

"I was thinking," Wade was lingering in the third room of their assigned cluster, glancing up when Adanya caught up to him. "Did everyone tell their life story when you met?" Easily, she picked up the feeling of the room and began pawing through the bookshelf; setting aside riffled books as quickly as she touched them.

"No," Wade thumbed through the file cabinet absently. "I mean, we all shared war stories, but none of us was all coffee-klatch about it. Not like you and Jimmy." He snorted. "That man is a pain-slut."

"Then why me? Bunch of hard-ass tough guys all pulling out their hankies for a heart-to-heart about poor abused little Adanya," She tossed the last book off the shelf, standing on her toes to peer at the shelf. "If nobody else had to, why me?" A small envelope was slipped into her pocket discreetly, labeled in Spanish for _Room Thirteen_.

"You're a girl," Wade took a swig of aged bourbon before tossing the bottle out of the cabinet, dumping out items carelessly. "We don't know you, and Stryker expects us to just take you in and trust you to have our back," He examined a stack of magazines; old, worn, crusty-looking _Hustler_. "All of us are military trained, we've all seen war, been in combat, proven ourselves as ruthless bastards," He tossed aside the magazines, feeling her watching him. "But you just skip inside and plunk yourself down and get comfy."

"Hardly,"

"Same difference," He followed her. "We know each other for what we are; you're different." The next room was more sterile, a storage room for filing cabinets and broken equipment. "You're tweaked and it shows." Wade shrugged, peeking into the closet. "We never got a dossier, or any warning. You're the only recruit that took a group effort," He swung open the closet door; empty. "You're different than us, Anya, we don't generally take well to spooks."

"Huh," She looked up from the filing cabinet, eyes wide when she saw the open closet door. "Funny, I never saw myself as fed,"

"And you've got that new kid smell, it drives Victor wild." He swung the door open wider, letting her see inside.

Adanya paled, turning away to paw through more files. "Is that like new car smell, or new baby smell?" Almost angrily, she tossed paperwork out with little regard to neatness, tossing the room like a tornado to keep herself from screaming like a child.

"Babies are creepy," Wade closed the door, leaning back against it.

"I hated them when I was younger, I never played with my dolls." Another envelope went into her pocket. "Tell me something else?"

"Try me." Wade picked up a potted plant. "Jesus, are you kidding me?" He picked up a desk key, laughing. "People actually hide shit under the plants? What next, another one over the door frame?"

Adanya shrugged, leaning on the stripped, acid scarred desk behind her. "Why do I feel different when I'm with you? I'm not…I don't want to be…I feel _better_; I'm not _nearly_ as upset, or scared, or worried." She played with the end of her ponytail bashfully. "Why is that? Are you empathic or something?" Remy was empathic, he let her sync it into her system after she'd repaired the torn cartilage in his knees, showed her how to use it to hustle poker and pool, but she was never as good as him. She hadn't tried her empathy in years, it had probably cycled out of her system, like childhood vaccines, flushed out after the five-year mark.

"Dunno," Wade ran a hand along the top of the doorframe. "Why do you make me make sense?" He brushed the dust off on a pant leg. "You make me wanna change my bed sheets and wear clean underwear."

"I'm not sure if that's sick or funny." A soft, sickly giggle rose in her throat. "Um, you should probably do those things daily as is,"

"I change my underwear all the time," Wade snickered conversationally. "But the sheets? Once a week at best."

"I change mine at least every other day," She wrinkled her nose. "It's gross otherwise, especially for men, they do…_things_."

A short, dry laugh interrupted Wade's reply. "If you two are finished with the gal-chat, we've got work to do." North appeared in the doorway. "Anytime you're ready, ladies, Stryker wants us upstairs for another briefing."

* * *

The lab was clean, sterile, bright, and smelling thickly of antiseptic and cleanser. The rest of their team was sitting on tables, watching Stryker pore over their gleaned information, his eyes flicking back and forth quickly as he read about their sources, abundant sites spread over the world, though none specific. Africa, Asia…even up in Canada. The real trick was finding the deposits.

"We found keys," Adanya flipped the envelopes onto the table with the other ill-collected goods. "Nothing special though,"

"I was gonna start making my moves, but Davey spoiled the mood." Wade made a face at him. "Thanks a pant load, North,"

"Sounds like you lucked out, Addy." Bolt teased, tugging on the end of her ponytail.

"Adanya," Stryker waved her over. "This," He held the tiny, albeit damningly heavy, lump of silver out to her. "Is part of a metal compound called adamantium. Can you read it?"

"Baseline organic, at best." She turned the lump over in her hands. "Feels a little like iron, but it's not natural." She sniffed it curiously. "It has a color signature, but it's not living. Is it like the vibranium-iron alloy?" That stuff was like looking at a rainbow through a kaleidoscope, like being seven again and looking at Mr. Forge's leg, trying to read a color pattern from him.

"What do you know about that?" An eyebrow lifted, independent of its twin.

"Daddy says it's not for my ears," She shrugged, lying through her teeth. Mr. Forge taught her how to read the base patterns of organic metals. "But it feels about the same, but it's missing something." She sniffed again. "This is raw, it hasn't been treated yet." It smelled…bitter and cold, and left a mineral taste on her tongue, like drinking well water. "Signal comes in and out, it's not like anything I've seen before. Is it from space?"

"Yes," He watched her hungrily. "What else?"

"Four…seven allotropes maybe," Eyes squinted shut, her fingers wrapped around the metal more securely. "Reactive to…" Her eyes opened, wide and disappointed. "I lost it."

"Damn," Stryker's fist smashed on the desktop. Adanya startled, dropping the hunk of metal, taking a few preemptive steps back. A hush fell over the room, save for Stryker cursing under his breath wickedly. Adanya backed herself up until she hit a table, cowering as though she expected to be hit.

"_Forbidden Planet_," Wade announced, breaking the lull of fear-induced silence, redirecting Stryker's attention on himself. Adanya sighed in relief. "I heard that word before, it was _Forbidden Planet_. Krell space metal,"

"Great, let's find a comic book store and get us a geek to pull up the information on this shit," Bradley cracked. "Problem solved."

* * *

Night had fallen outside, washing the sky in deep purple-blue, fireflies twinkling and flitting along, bats shrieking and swooping overhead. "Another pointless mission completed," Wade announced loudly, as though commentating baseball. "And now, sportsfans, we present…the after show!" He ran in a wide circle around his teammates. "Look alive ladies, we're heading out to the crazy little city of Chesapeake, the sex capital of the old U.S. of A!"

"Bullshit," Dukes rumbled. "If that's true, why's she counting stars?" He rolled his eyes. "The shit you dream up when you get bored, man."

Wade froze, turning to watch Adanya watching stars twinkle into existence. "Oho,"

Adanya looked up at the night sky. "Wish I may…"

"Anya," Wade interrupted, tipping his head back and staring up. "That's Mars." He laughed. "You're wishing on a planet."

"Go figure," She rolled her eyes, looking around at the stillness of night, fireflies blinking in and out of shadows. In town, the streetlights would flood the ground with huge pools of light, warm and welcoming, everything lit up and dazzling, alive. "Do I still get my wish?"

"Depends, does it have something to do with…_ah_, you, me, dark room, spooky noises?" Adanya shook her head, almost smiling. "Screamer or moaner?" He pursued, undaunted. "Don't tell me, I like to find things out for myself." Casually, he caught her belt loop and pulled her back, pinning her arms to her sides. "Bet you've got cute little panties you want to show me." Hands crept down her back. "I always liked show and tell,"

"Not even close." Adanya smirked, pushing him playfully. "You had me for a minute," She allowed herself to be tugged forward, close enough to feel his breath on her cheek. "Then you opened your mouth again and spoiled it."

"What do you wish for?" He grinned at her crookedly. "Tell the truth and shame the devil," Another exaggerated grin. "Takes a lot to shame me, babe."

"Something I can't have." She replied shortly. "Now what do we do?"

"Go," Stryker waved a hand at them dismissively, watching a shiny black Mercedes pull up. "We'll regroup tomorrow, at approximately oh-nine hundred hours, edge of town." He smiled tactlessly. "_Adanya_ can lead you."

"Gee thanks," Her face burned for a moment. "Is this like punishment, rounding up the drunks?" Being on drunk-duty robbed her of the chance to slip into the Bluebird Inn for the night, stay away from Chesapeake at large, curl up in handmade quilts and drink hot cocoa, pretend she wasn't going to possibly murder someone tomorrow for a hunk of space rock.

"There's my girl!" Wade cheered, popping up behind her. "_Sassy_," She glared over her shoulder; he could be damn sneaky when he chose. "Stick with it,"

"Adanya," Stryker's tone was flat, patronizing; _I'll pretend to listen, but you're going to do it anyway._

"I know." She replied in kind, losing her edge. "Nine a.m." She tossed him a halfhearted salute. "Sir,"

"Good girl." He almost patted her head, but thought better of it and turned away, striding to the sleek black car waiting for him, a tinted window rolling down and releasing a cloud of smoke from expensive cigars.

"Men and their filthy habits," Adanya wrinkled her nose as the car passed, catching a sideways glance at Jimmy. "At least you just chew the things, you don't light up."

"Only for you, punkin," He grinned at her, taking the wet, chewed stogie out of his mouth and tossed it aside casually.

"So we take the Jeep?" Bolt hopped in the back. "What's there to do in Chesapeake, Addy?"

"Your chariot awaits," The passenger door swung open, Wade bouncing on the driver's seat. "Ready and rarin', milady."

"Why thank you, kind sir," She laid a hand on her chest, batting her lashes affectedly. "Chesapeake's simple enough to follow, this road goes right into town, and…" She stopped short when she realized Jimmy was waiting, patiently, for her to get in the Jeep. "You're making me go with." Easily, Victor wrestled Wade from the driver's seat and left it open for Jimmy, plopping himself nonchalantly in the passenger seat.

"Let you drive," He tossed her the keys.

"Can't." She threw them back with a sigh. "Never needed to learn."

* * *

"Park here, everything's within walking distance, even if you get hammered." Reluctantly Adanya got out of the Jeep, looking around at the town square. In about three weeks, hay bales and pumpkins would be dragged in for the Fall Festival, and later on the pumpkins would be carved for Halloween. "There's The Bar."

"The bar's called The Bar?" Victor gave a short chuckle, already getting a lungful of rotgut and moonshine, getting a flash of thigh above a stocking as a woman climbed out of her car.

"Owner's sense of humor," Adanya wrinkled her nose, cringing when people appeared, still laughing and cheering from the game. "There's a house of ill-repute up the street, called Lola's Lovelies." She pointed in the general direction of the establishment, easily visible due to strings and strings of twinkle lights draped over the front porch. "I think it's like a ten dollar charge to get in, and you pay for what you want after that. Helps if you're sweet to Miss Lola, she's the owner."

"Chesapeake has a whore-house?" Dukes took another glance up the street, hopefully.

"_Ches'peake's got a whore-house in it, Lord have mercy on us all_," Wade sang, badly and out of tune, still lingering near Adanya's side.

"Not exactly," Adanya fidgeted, antsy as people began to fill the streets around them. "Nobody calls it that, it's just like the Love Shack down near the creek; you do your thing and sort out what you owe with who you owe it to."

"What's the Love Shack?" Wade looked back at her, staring intently through the picture window of a store specializing in women's underwear.

"Party house," She looked around for Martin and Emily, the Cougar cheer squad. "Free love, cheap booze, and cheaper drugs." The Shack was her first run-in with cocaine, up in the loft with Annette and Cleo, pure stuff, not the cheap, cut with baking powder dust the kids snorted downstairs.

"Where is this exactly?" Bradley inquired, getting a good-natured shove from Logan. They all pretended to hate each other, but a common sort of quasi-friendship was never far off.

"In the middle of a field, about fifteen miles that way," She pointed out the opposite direction, toward the creek "Clothing optional, glitter recommended. Abandon your underwear on the front porch."

"You seem to know a lot about it for such a shy girl."

"I went there once," Absently, she rubbed her nose. "Until someone took me home and made me breakfast." Marshall hadn't let her leave for three days, until he was absolutely sure she wasn't permanently damaged, and thoroughly chastised.

"Well if I take you to the bar, you gonna take me home and cook me breakfast?" Wade inquired sweetly, batting his lashes.

* * *

"I have an announcement to make," A young, preppy looking brunette stood up on a chair, holding his arms up for silence. "Could ya'll shut up, please?" His grin sported a gap between his two front teeth, lending him an air of silly charm to offset the pricey look of his attire.

"Let's hear it, Nixon!" A girl chirped, mocking his wide armed stance, flashing a double peace sign.

"You shush," He pointed down at her with a grin. "To celebrate _another_ Cougar victory," He waited, as the crowd gave up another cheer, waiting for the howling and stomping and screaming to die down. "Tonight, in honor of my little brother leading us to another victory against the Wolves; drinks are on me!"

"Woo, we get drunk for free, happens every time we win a game." Adanya whirled around on her barstool. "Can I get a Coke, please?" Down the bar, the waitresses were passing out ice-cold beers like candy, laughing with patrons.

"Sure thing," The bartender pulled her up a glass. "You from around here?" He scooped up ice, staring at her. "You look familiar."

"Graduated last spring," She watched him wrack his brain to place a name to her face. "Andy Winters," The tab popped on her soda can.

"No shit," He grinned at her. "First time in my bar, right? You lived with that dame Maggie?" He slid the glass across the bar. "Shit, honey, I ain't seen you since…since graduation. You finally got free of the old nag," He held up a glass of ice water. "Cheers,"

"Here's to surviving hell with a handful of ashes," She clinked her soda with his water. "Cheers," She took a long sip of Coke, spinning her chair around in lazy circles, watching everyone take their celebratory shots, clinking beers, pitchers of the beverage circulating in quick succession. She knew most of the crowd, watching her teammates mingle easily; slipping in and out like this was all old hat. Jimmy was keeping an eye on her, always within her line of vision, like a shadow she couldn't quite shake.

"Adanya?" A tall, chubby man with wavy blonde hair and a lisp squealed. "Adanya!" Easily, he waded through the crowd of bodies, maneuvering his bulk easily. "Cougar round up!"

"Andy!" A blonde with gray green eyes squealed, throwing her arms up. "You're home!" She followed, her jacket falling open as she scurried. "Andy, Andy, Andy!" She wriggled between two boys in letterman jackets. "Adanya!"

"Hi Marty, hi Emmy," Adanya bit her lower lip, waving shyly. "Don't tell the whole school, we'll have a riot." She slid off her barstool, holding her arms out. "Miss me?"

"It's so good to see you again." Marty swept her up in a hug. "I missed my little Cougarette, it's not the same without you." He let go, framing her face in his hands, lifting her head. "You look good, Addy, you doing okay? New York's fucking hell," His eyes look sad and soulful. "You're not back on it, are you? You're so thin, and N'York's…I don't want you all strung up and sick, my sister died doing that shit."

"I was only there a little while," She shrugged, hugging her arms around him. "I missed my Marty hugs."

"Hug a fat man, we all feel the same." She giggled against his sweater. "You seen him yet?"

"No." Her eyes glossed over with tears almost instantly. "Is he doing okay?"

"Aw, honey don't cry," Marty looked like he might burst into tears with her, his lisp more pronounced. "I check on him all the time, he's…"

"Who're they?" Emily wiped the lipstick off her teeth with her cuff, trying to look nonchalant, tugging Adanya away from Martin. "Andy, who are they?" She pointed, rather obviously and rudely, to the only 'strangers' in the bar. "I don't know them."

"Wade, Chris, Fred, John, Jimmy and Victor," She gestured at the blonde, and the pudgy man with his arm around her. "Emily Grace and Martin Prince."

"So," Emily sucked her lower lip between her teeth, batting her lashes at Wade. "You want a beer?"

"Got one," He leaned back on a chair, cocking an eyebrow at her. Marty stuck a finger down his throat and gagged, Adanya giggled under her breath.

Emily smirked. "How about another?" She lifted her faint eyebrows. "Me and Marty were thinking about lighting up, you game?" Brazenly, a touch desperately, she produced a joint from the low V of her shirt, dipping her hand into her brief black bra.

"Not a game I won't play," Wade grinned; been a while since he last got stoned. "Later, Anya, gotta go play with the other kids." Emily dragged Wade off to a corner table, Marty tagging along behind them.

"Some things never change," Adanya sighed, sitting back down, watching her teammates disperse. Victor left; off to do only God ignores what, Dukes headed out for the whorehouse with North. Jimmy and Wraith sat back with their beers, at ease watching the rest of the bar. Bradley sidled up to the bar and just started chattering nonchalantly about model planes.

She sat on her swivel chair, content to sip her Coke, watching her old schoolmates. A few girls, very pregnant, waddled together in small clutches; chattering avidly about benches and sore butts, pink infused drinks in their hands. Adanya spun around a few more times, entertaining herself simply, glad that none of her school friends were gushing over her.

A dark shape in the shadows, just beyond the jukebox, near the booths, caught her attention. Tall and lean, it moved like a phantom, sliding from place to place like quicksilver, black shadows draped over a black greatcoat, with a thick heather gray scarf, a pair of liquid kohl eyes peering out of a pale face. A hand lifted, finger crooked to beckon her forward. Adanya was off her chair and into the shadows like a bolt of lightening released, backing her ex-fiancée into a corner quickly.

"Marshall," Impulsively, she threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck, pressing her cheek to his. "Oh my God, I thought I'd never see you again." He smelled warm and rich; wood smoke and roses, honey and wine.

"_Belle_," His breath huffed against her ear, arms going around her waist. "You came back." She buried her face in his neck, going limp, forcing him to take the full weight of her, like he used to. He flinched when she stiffened, fingers prying at the thick scarf he'd wrapped around his neck, one of scarves she'd made him.

"Oh my God," She pulled away, jerking the scarf down. "Marshall, what'd they _do_ to you?" Thick wheals of rope burn circled his throat. "Oh God," Both hands covered her mouth. "What happened?" She stared at him, horrified.

"Not here," He pulled her further back into the shadows, looking around warily, tugging the scarf back up around his throat.

"Tell me," She followed, her eyes flaring up. "Why won't you tell me what's wrong?" A head shorter than him, she stared up, fierce and protective. "Who did this to you?"

"Home," His dark eyes met hers, melding. "Come home with me, Belle," He reached for her hands; she recoiled with a shiver. "Please." He grabbed her upper arms, hands shaking. "Just come home."

"Marshall," Her eyes went wide as the blood drained from her face, a sharp sense of fear stabbing into her heart. "I'm sorry,"

"Please," His grip tightened, fingers biting into her biceps. "I need…" Words failed him, as they always did when she was close enough to taste, an inch from his mouth, fresh and sweet and warmly alive.

Tears welled up in her eyes. "You're hurting me,"

His grasp let up, ten fine points of blood welling up on her arms. "I'll never forgive myself for what I did," He looked down, self-deprecating and shy. "Or ask you to," He caught her hands in his larger ones, tracing the finely pointed tip of a nail over her palm. "But I want you to give me another chance,"

"Marshall, we promised we wouldn't ever do this." Adanya felt her resolve crumbling, tears rolling down her face wetly. "We _can't_." She tugged her hands away. "If you don't trust me, then I can't…I can't love someone that doesn't trust me, that doesn't have enough faith in me to keep lying until the lie stops working," She sniffed, taking in the deep, warm fragrance of him, woodsy and rich. "That's not how it's supposed to be."

"Please," Tenderly, he brushed aside the wetness from her face, drawing shivers from a secret place inside her. "You are my peace." Whatever was left of her resolve blew away like sand. "This is yours." He flattened her hand over his chest, over his heart. "Never doubt that,"

"I'm not…" She pulled her hand away reluctantly, gazing at her palm, searching for crib notes, a secret message, some magic word to spirit her away. "Please don't do this."

"You're so beautiful, even in pain." He leaned in, whispering softly against her lips. "_Mon ange, s'il vous plaît, je ne veux pas te caresse parmi les étrangers, et de parler chez les voleurs_." His hands slipped around her waist, closing the gap between them, breathing on her neck. "_Ils vous me volez, ils aspirent à vous, ils aspirent à la lumière de votre âme, pour l'enchantement de votre regard. Dérober des épines, Belle, s'aventurer dans les jardins secret_."

Her pulse quickened; Logan could hear her heart pick up speed from the moment she'd seen the guy, which clued him in that it _was_ Marshall. Adanya said something back, softly, indiscernible over the roar of background noise from patrons and record player, and the boy nodded, taking her hand and leading her through the shadows, glancing back over his shoulder every so often, his hand wrapped around hers tightly.

They stepped into the light near an open window, both wincing. Marshall was the same as his photo; tall and lanky, pale face framed in dark hair, big dark eyes, high cheekbones. Not a bad looking kid, if sickly pale and Gothic romance was your type. Certainly had Adanya wrapped around his finger, looking back to see her nodded urgently, as willing to leave as he was to take her. She spooked, allowing them to pass through the crowd apparently unseen and unheard, passing by the table that Jimmy occupied with Wraith, Adanya never taking a look at them, not making a sound.

Kid smelled like raw meat. The hand wrapped around Adanya's was huge and rough looking, thick nails and calluses. Not the hands of the poet she'd described. He moved agitatedly, like a caged animal, dragging her along like a hapless victim, barely breathing until they were out of the bar.

"Adanya!" Jimmy tried to get up, but it felt like someone had glued his ass to the chair. "Spook!" He felt the tension ease up when the ignition turned over, the engine revving to life and peeling out set him free of her hold. "God damnit," The sleek automobile disappeared around a corner, taking her away into the night.

"Let her go, man." He turned his head to see John beside him rather than across from him. "She don't need to see this anyway," Wraith waved his empty beer bottle at Wade, alternately chugging drinks and taking hits off a joint, hand planted firmly on a young woman's rear end, taking shots from her cleavage without ever using his hands, Bradley deep in conversation with the barkeep, chortling drunkenly. And the night was still young. He waved for another round, the barkeep nodding.

"I don't like him," He felt something…_off _with the kid, something fundamentally unsettling and wrong. He wasn't a fucking kid; for starters, he didn't smell like he belonged to this era. He smelled older, rich and peppery like trees and earth, like people usta smell before modern conveniences, before doctors and medicines, back from a time when twenty-four was a ripe old age, and if you had most of your teeth, you were well ahead of the game.

"You don't like anyone," Wraith chided, popping the cap on a fresh beer. "Ease up, Jimmy, she can take care of herself." He shoved a fresh beer in Jimmy's hand, sitting down across from him. "Might get lucky, she'll find something she likes and stick around, get her ass out of our bid'ness,"

"You don't like her either?" Logan cocked a brow.

"I don't like what she's here for." Wraith confirmed enigmatically, tucking his hat over his eyes, leaning back in his chair. "None of us do."

* * *

"Miss Margaret," Wade inquired, once the weed had calmed down some. It was fucking hilarious to him, to see police officers in full uniform, supervising the underage crowd while they got drunk off their asses and shared a joint under the table. Emily, between tokes, choked out that it was her idea, passed on to her daddy, that they were going to drink anyway, so they might as well do it in the open where nobody could get _in trouble_, and they'd have a limit set by the boys in brown.

"She's dead," Martin giggled drunkenly, his lisp more pronounced than ever. "She kicked last month, praise the devil!" He lifted his beer, looking around. "Praise the devil; Maggie's dead!"

The bar chorused with him, drinks aloft. _"Praise the devil! Satan took her home!" _A couple girls in outgrown cheerleading uniforms waved their pom poms.

"Nobody in this town liked Maggie," Emily tittered, laying a hand on his arm. "She's about as popular as the bubonic plague," She waved cheerfully at a couple men in brown police uniforms. "But she got around like the clap." She waved again. "Hi David, hi Tony!"

"What about a guy named Marshall?" Wade chugged his fourth beer, looking as sober as a saint. "Anybody like him?"

"What do you know about Marshall?" Martin's good mood vanished, solemn and clear-headed in an instant.

"Anya…" And in that instant, he realized just how stupid it must have sounded.

Emily burst into laughter. "Oh, you call her _Anya_?" She simpered, giggling wretchedly. "He's not gonna like that," She took a long pull of her beer, giggling around the suds in her mouth. "Better keep an eye on your new boyfriend Marty, we all know Martian's got himself a temper," She swallowed noisily. "Anya, _ooh la la_."

"Cork it, Emily." Marty glanced at Wade, then around the bar. "Don't start that up again."

"A temper?" Wade glanced from face to face. "What kind of temper?"

Marty interrupted before Emily could open her mouth. "Austin had no right to start up with her,"

"He didn't even know she was with that…_freak_ until he showed up and just about took his face off!" Emily slapped her bottle down, suds rising from the top like a geyser. "What kinda guy does that? What kind of guy has…claws on his hands?" She looked at her own for emphasis, her finger curled in like talons. "He kept her on a leash, Marty, only reason you were allowed to see her is that you're gay."

Martin shook his head doggedly. "Austin didn't have to put his hands on her, he was protecting…"

"Oh give me a break!" Emily's voice rose. "He was pissed off Andy was moving on to someone _better_, someone _her_ _age_ and _normal_." She flung an arm out, pointing to a handsome, albeit heavily scarred, man shooting pool with Jimmy, shrugging off his varsity jacket. "Austin has a future, Marshall is a creep."

"Why's he a creep, aside from the obvious?" Wade lifted an eyebrow, absently flipping a pocketknife in his hand. "Creepy like a spider, or creepy like a pervert?"

"Leave it alone."

"No, Marty, answer his question." A faint and sinister smile came to Emily's face. "_Why_ is Marshall a creepazoid with a capital F?"

"Emily," His voice held a warning tone. "_Don't_. If she wanted him to know, she'll tell him."

"Tell me, Wade, what kind of grown man goes after a _fourteen year old girl_?" She slapped her hands on the table, looking at Martin hatefully.

"Fourteen?" Wade nearly choked. "Fuckity frackin' fourteen?"

Martin flushed miserably, peeling the label from his bottle. "Thirteen, Em, after she finished growing."

"That makes it better?" Wade yelped. "Tell me he didn't _do_ anything with her,"

"A thirteen year old girl," She repeated coldly. "He's like twenty-four, chasing a thirteen year old girl." A note of disbelief colored her tone. "And you know she just loved that, an older man treating her like she's something special, acting like he cares," Her fingers wrapped around the neck of Marty's beer. "Humph."

"Emily," She took a swallow of the dark lager, liquoring herself up to be brave.

"You shut up, you never had to remind her that _Maggie was waiting_." She sounded like a teenage girl; jealous and whiny. "You didn't have to sneak her out so she could go see him, you never had to lie to everyone about where she was, she never asked you for _anything_, Martin, it was always _me_!" She jabbed her finger into her chest, sniffing. "_I_ had to take her shopping, _I_ taught her how to flirt, _I _showed her what men like," She quieted, glowering at the bottle in her hands. "I taught her everything."

"You still sound jealous, Aunty Em." Martin looked at her coldly, keeping half an eye on Wade. "Just like the sisters in their story," He pressed cruelly, watching heat fill Emily's face. "Jealous of Belle; bitter, selfish, pathetic enough to lash out at her because of it."

"_Jealous of Belle?_" Emily screeched; a shrill, hateful sound. "If I wanted to fuck my dad, I'd fu--" Martin's hand swung out and caught her jaw hard, knocking her off her chair.

"Don't talk about her like that," He stood over her, hands wrapped into fists. "She's supposed to be your friend, Emily Grace, you don't ever talk about her like that."

"You hit me!" Her hand cradled her sore jaw, her lower lip bloody from her teeth. "You bastard, you're not..." She looked wounded and frail, like a little girl.

"Supposed to hit girls?" Marty sneered down at her, waving away several patrons that went to help Emily. "Women's lib, sweetheart; take it like a man." He stood over her, pudgy and ham-fisted, his ire cooling. "It's not Addy's fault the only regular guy in this one horse town that ever got her was the schizo on the hill," He pulled her up to her feet, pushing her toward her chair. "Trust me, Emmy, I know the story a damn sight better than you. I was with her all the time, I was allowed in their house; I know Marshall. You don't. All you know is Jack and shit, and Jack left town."

"Fuck you, fruit boy." She was teary eyed, still rubbing her jaw. "My daddy's sheriff!"

"That hurts, Emily, really it does." His hands closed over her shoulders, shoving her into her chair. "Coming from the only virgin in our graduating class that wasn't lesbian or engaged." He walked around the table, picking up her beer bottle, holding it out to her.

"Andy wasn't..." Anytime someone announced their engagement, the whole school knew, and Addy'd only ever been honored at assemblies, with school awards. "Where is Andy?" She looked around the bar, blonde hair whipping across her face. "She didn't."

"She wouldn't," Marty dashed past her for the window, hitching up his pants out of old habit. A mocking cheer of _"run, fat ass, run"_ followed him closely.

"What?" Wade followed Emily around the tables, feeling like a member of a highly retarded game of Scooby-Doo Mysteries. "What's up with the cliché suspenseful scene is it supposed to heighten the drama? Fatty slapped the bitch, wasn't that good enough?"

"Bet she did," Emily's tan face was pale in the streak of silvery moonlight. "Marty, I bet she's up there right now." She scanned the open space, looking up toward the hill.

"She's smarter than that," Martin shook his head. "She's probably walking the field, or hiding in the pavilion singing," He couldn't hear her; he prayed for her walking the field. "She can't go back, he made her swear if he ever lifted a hand to her, she'd leave and never look back." Offhandedly, he handed Emily back her beer, pushing her toward a chair as though nothing had happened. "She never broke her promises to him, I can't see her doing it now." He looked shaken, but kept walking. "She's smart, she won't go back to him." He didn't sound like he believed his own words.

"Right," Emily took a sip of her beer, rubbing her face. "You hit like a girl, Marty, like a locker room bitch." She shook the bottle. "Damn, almost empty."

Martin opened his mouth to reply, holding up a hand to silence Wade, when a crack of thunder erupted in the sudden quiet, as though everyone had been waiting for that precise moment. Midnight.

"What the fuck?" Heads whipped around, staring at the window as though it would light up with an answer.

"Someone lightin' off dynamite in the gully again?" The bartender poured another shot and set his bottle down. "Damn kids,"

"Didn't sound like it," A voice rose above the din, from the poker table. "Sounded like a gunshot." Flippantly, he tossed a couple chips in the center of the table, conversation never lulling around him.

"Maybe Martian finally did it," Another voice slurred. "Praise th'devil! Took 'im home!" A chorus of laughter rose from the table of high school boys.

"Don't say that!" A curvy girl with short dark hair shrieked. "That's a horrible thing to say!" She clutched a tray to her chest, horrified.

"Cool off, Katie," Emmy rolled her eyes, finishing off her beer and waving for another. "Don't start up, nobody wants to hear it." Another waitress, a braless blonde, rolled her eyes and sauntered over with a fresh round for the table. Beer was an excellent source of distraction.

"He's a human being!" Katie wailed, rushing over to the window. "Jack, I gotta go up there!" She threw a glance over her shoulder. "Oh God, what if he's hurt, what if somebody went after him?" Tears filled her eyes quickly. "What if they tried to lynch him again?"

"Cry on, mama, cry on." Jack, behind the bar, waved a hand at her mockingly. "Do your tables, Kate; shift's not over till one. Boyfriend can wait."

"He's not even her boyfriend!" Emily shouted back, over the chorus of inebriated laughter. "She's just some jacked up little groupie."

"Shove it up your ass, whore!" Katie threw Emmy a filthy, hateful glare. "At least I know love's more than two minutes in the backseat of a car!"

"Play it up, Katie, you'll never be his type." The blonde patted her shoulder, scooping her tips into an apron pocket. "You're not his Belle, and he is not your Beast." She collected empty bottles, plentiful as mushrooms after a good rain, and patted the distraught girl again. "He's fine, probably pining away in the moonlight, reading Edgar Allen Poe."

"Up yours, Faith." Katie spit, slapping her hand away. "He's gonna realize who his friends are, and the rest of you are all fucked when he does!" She smelled faintly of roses, the scent rising when she whirled around and blasted them all in her nasal voice. "I'm the only one in this shit town that understands him, and he's gonna get me out of here!" She slapped her tray down on an empty table and stalked toward the back, wiping tears away angrily. "Bunch of inbred fuckwits, anyhow."

Marty cuffed the side of Emily's head. "Sound familiar toots?"

"Andy didn't want out," Emily took a pensive swig of beer, eyes on the table. "She just wanted a place to call home."

"So," Wade looked at the pair of them, mildly interested. "Nobody's gonna go check on her?"

"Well," Emily suddenly looked inspired, warm and sultry. "I think Andy's a big girl, she can take care of herself." Under the table, she eased her foot out of a shoe and rested it in Wade's lap, her smile taking on a winsome curve. "But I've got something else you can check on," Easily, as though this was all an old game, she leaned back in her chair. "And I've got friends who need checking up on too."

Wade grinned back at her, catching her roving foot easily. "That so?" He could break her toes ever so easily, and crack a joke for each one.

"Uh-huh," Coyly, she traced a fingertip around her lips. "We're having a slumber party tonight, and we're gonna forget to wear our pajamas." She giggled. "You up for that? Think you can handle us…feminists?" She cast another saucy smile his way. "Cause you know, feminist ball busters have the best bushes." She was an old hand at pot smoking, but beer went to her head quickly when she wasn't in a serious conversation. "Wanna come trim the shrubbery?" She giggled again. "_Come_,"

"Aw, baby, you're a riot." Wade mocked. "Your friends as funny as you?"

"Jesus Christ," Martin stood up, casting a look of disgust at the two of them. "I hope you both get VD, this is fucking _nasty_." He looked at Wade. "She'll give you crabs man, she's worse than a public toilet at Woodstock." He hiccupped. "Sucks for me though, you've got a nice ass." He polished off his beer, slapping the bottle down.

"Night Liberace," Emily waved him away. "Sleep tight."

"Don't cry to me when he can't remember your name in the morning, Emily."

* * *

At nine twenty-eight the next morning, a pink Cadillac rolled up to Delgado, and Wade Wilson got out of the car without a word to the driver. "Where's Anya?" Wade slammed the door shut without a second glance, strolling toward them casually. "Wasn't she supposed to baby-sit us, I didn't see her all night. Took a piss on Miss Margaret's grave though, felt pretty good."

"You enjoy yourself, Wilson?" Dukes chortled, recognizing the strut to his walk. "Looks like she's still attached."

The little blonde girl, _Emily_, Jimmy recognized from the bar last night, had gotten out and chased him. "You sure you have to leave?" She looked pale, without her make-up, hair mussed. "I mean, we can go back and I could make you breakfast or somethin'." She tugged her sweater back into place over her bra, looking at the others nervously. "That was fun last night, maybe we could do it again." She cast a hopeful glance at Wade. "_Without_ my girlfriends." She tugged at his hands. "What do you say?"

"Yeah, thanks for the ride, Em." He shrugged her off easily, not bothering to look at her.

"Thanks for the ride?" Her mouth dropped open. "That's it?"

"You need something?" It was more of a formality than an inquiry, sounding bored at best.

Emily went white, then scarlet. "You are such an asshole," She ground the words out, her eyes beginning to tear up. "You fucking slut, you _used_ me!" She ran back to her car, sobbing miserably. "I hope your dick falls off!" She revved the engine hard, sending up a spray of gravel when she tore out. "_Asshole!_"

"You and a thousand other women." Wade commented wryly, watching her car disappear around a bend. "So where's Anya?"

"Don't know," Bradley shrugged, sitting on the hood of the Jeep, checking his watch. "It's nine thirty, obviously Stryker didn't expect us to be on time." He waved a hand around. "Edge of town; place where nobody works weekends."

"Those girls deserve a weekend off," Dukes rumbled. "But damn do they show a fella a good time."

"It's a Christmas miracle, we're all together on time!" Wade clapped his hands together, swinging his arms. "But I'm missing my buddy." He frowned, looking around. "Miss prim and proper, never a minute late or a nickel short." He pouted. "Where's my Anya? She knows I don't like waiting."

"Maybe she found someone else to play with." Victor shrugged, leaning back in the driver's seat of the Jeep, idly flipping through one of Dukes' titty magazines. "You know, Wilson, one of these days your dick _will_ fall off, then what'cha gonna do?"

Wade seemed to think for a moment. "No, no, ahh…before all that wild sex, which yes, I will tell you about it later, Bradley, you can live vicariously through me once again," He waved a hand dismissively. "Wench meat said something about the house on the hill and a creep named Marshall." He pointed back down the road that led back into town. "House is that way, boys, lets go, we got us a damsel to undistress."

* * *

Flowers surrounded the house on the hill; planted in neat stretches over a thick, lushly green lawn. Stately and formidable, it was a white, two-story plantation house, mixing the gentility of the South with obvious touches of European influence. A high, wrought-iron fence to the left of the house revealed bushes and bushes of roses, varying in color and breed, but the rich scent of the dark crimson, old fashioned roses hung heavily in the air, the red-black blossoms heavy against the green foliage.

The same dark blue Cadillac that had stolen Adanya away the night before was parked beside the house, just outside a two-stall garage. Jimmy took all this in with a sense of unease, the mix of past and present, with glimpses of a certainly modernistic approach to the future, his gaze always coming back to the wrought-iron fence, the gate entwined with ivy. _"Secret garden," _His mind translated easily. Garden of Eden, secret place, place of temptation, place of downfall, place of seduction…the bloody meat smell overwhelmed the stink of roses. Place of death. Not a good place for little girls.

"Em said the creep lives here," Wade looked around, katana in hand. "And apparently the creep did stuff to my girl,"

"You keep saying that like she's yours," Bradley cracked quietly. "She doesn't even like you half the time,"

"It's the other half that keep us strong," Wade retorted, throwing a glance over his shoulder. "Now shut your face before I introduce your head to my kung-fu grip and realistic kicking action." He walked toward the garden. "Anya!"

"She's back there," Jimmy pointed to the backyard, near the lake. "I smell blood." Fresh and old alike, human by the taste on his tongue, thick and coppery with a touch of…gunpowder? The unique flavor of Adanya was easily discernable, parts honey and fire in his head, but the notes dipped lower with something raw and musky, defiantly and strongly male.

"Smells sweet," Victor took in a deep breath, aided by the breeze sweeping up from the lake, fed off of Deep Creek. "She ain't alone." A deeper, spicy scent was clouding hers.

"He ain't breathing either," Victor exchanged a look with his younger brother. "Bradley, call for Stryker." Logan commanded, with some authority. "John, you and Fred look around," He threw another glance over his shoulder. "Keep Wade off her, at least until we figure out what the fuck is going on here."

* * *

The front door was unlocked, which was a pity because Wade was really looking forward to kicking it in. "What a dump," Wade commented loudly, hopping over a broken lamp. "Someone needs to fire the maid," The front foyer was a mess; furniture smashed, glass shattered, paintings ripped to shreds of canvas, not a thing left whole or solid.

"Addy lived here?" Dukes fingered a light wool jacket that screamed her name, screamed of her handiwork. It was a deep mauve color, suitable for early fall weather, strands of chocolate brown hair clinging to the fabric. Below, though missing its mate was a matching shoe, in her size, with a low kitten heel. Plain and simple and proper; in tune with the owner.

"If she did, why'd she leave?" Wraith readied his gun, looking around warily. "I'ma go upstairs and have a look," He disappeared in an instant, not bothering with the staircase only six feet from where they stood, opposite the sunlit parlor.

"Anya?" Wade walked on, unperturbed by the disaster before him, like a tornado had ripped through the lavishly decorated home. The front parlor had big bay windows with sashes across the drapes to let in the morning sunlight, the glass cracked into spider webs, ready to break. A piano was demolished, a heap of broken wood and strings. Books scattered like confetti, the sofa and chaise lounge scored beyond repair. The second room, a sort of sitting room with a fireplace, was awash with broken glass and shards of porcelain vase, more wreckage.

"Damn," Wade shook his head, walking from room to room. "Must've been one hell of a party." He poked his head into a closet without a door. "Heh, maybe Anya did live here, none of the closets have doors." Wade followed the hall down to the back rooms. "I don't see anybody!"

"Great," Dukes rumbled. "We lost our girl, Stryker's gonna have our asses." He looked down. "What the fuck…is that blood, Chris?" A set of footprints, size seven, ran down the length of the hall, set in the indelible stain of dried blood. From the pace the runner was scared, both feet bleeding badly enough to leave full prints with spatters between.

"She ran," Bradley tracked bloody footprints to the kitchen. "She ran hard," More overturned furniture, broken dishes and crockery embedded in the walls, littering the floor in heaps and shards. A huge cast iron skillet lay near the open back door. The kitchen itself was a disaster area, save for the kitchen table, on which a small white frosted cake sat, decorated simply with blue sugar ribbons and small pearls. It look oddly serene, the little cake, sitting so perfect in the center of chaos. A gust of morning breeze slipped through the shattered windows, fluttering several papers tacked to a corkboard near the back door. A sheet of thick, hand written stationary caught Bradley's eye. The ink was deep red, a rich color against the creamy vanilla parchment, in elaborately hand-written Gothic lettering.

"Damn," Wraith appeared behind him. "You been upstairs yet? Girl has it all set up," He looked around the destroyed kitchen. "What the fuck happened here?"

"Jesus," Bradley felt the blood drain from his face, his ears cold. "Jesus Christ,"

"What the hell?" Dukes looked around the kitchen. "Saved the cake at least." He squinted at it. "Kinda small, ain't it, even for two people?" Behind him, still running around the first floor, Wade was yodeling and catcalling for Adanya._  
_

"_You are cordially invited to the wedding ceremony of Miss Adanya Natalia Winters, to Mister Marshall Edward __Desrosiers__…" _Bradley felt his mouth go dry. "That was yesterday,"

* * *

Victor prowled restlessly while Jimmy approached Adanya, taking a diplomatic stance that it wouldn't do much good for anyone if she attacked them. The closer he got, the richer the smell of blood became, and the mixed scents on the breeze became sharper and more defined with each breath. Adanya sat with her back to him, glossy skinned and pale in the meager light through the trees, singing very softly under her breath, dressed quite differently than when he'd seen her last.

The damp chill of morning had eaten through her clothing, a dewy sheen coating her loose hair. The long satin and lace skirts were pooled around her enchantingly, like a wide ivory puddle, spread over the grass quite deliberately. A delicate ivory corset was too tightly laced around her, a mere quarter inch of space between the two sides, done up with lavish crimson and ivory ribbons. A few roses, of the same deep crimson hue, adorned her hair, half done up in an elaborate knot with the rest spilling loosely down her back. A brown leather school satchel sat to her left, at the edge of her gown, near the willow tree. It looked like a pretty dress, but she was missing the veil for her hair.

"_Come Josephine, in my flying machine, going up she goes, up she goes."_ Jimmy could see someone draped over her lap. _"Balance yourself like a bird on a beam, in the air she goes," _Bites, from a set of teeth with wicked incisors, dotted her bare shoulders, long scratches across her back _"There she goes,"_ The someone draped over her lap was Marshall, dead, eyes wide and blank, staring up at the sky while Adanya's hands continued to smooth over his unruly hair. _"Up, up, a little bit higher. Oh! My! The moon is on fire,"_

"Adanya?" Jimmy didn't speak until he was beside her, looking down at the two of them. Marshall's dark eyes were dull as buttons, his mouth agape, neck arched back gently on Adanya's lap. He was dressed up too, in almost funereal garb, the white of his shirt gone slightly yellow with time, the buttons of his coat strangely lackluster for such an occasion. Her dress looked fresh and new, his clothing looked as though it would smell of mothballs and dust.

She looked up, shaken. "Hello," There was no spark of recognition, no minute awareness of whom she was speaking to. They might have been total strangers for all the regard she gave. _"Come Josephine,"_

"Get up," He grabbed her under the arms, hauling her up quickly, the corpse falling to the ground between them. He looked her over, ignoring how cool her flesh felt in his hands, looking for some trace of evidence, some explanation. There was no gunpowder on her hands, no powder burns or residue. She didn't even smell of the stuff, she smelled of rosewater and blood and death, but no trace of gunpowder. It was just all over _him_.

"Jimmy, I found a…" Bolt ran down the incline with the others on his heels, falling silent when he saw Adanya up on her feet. "_Damn_,"

"Hey Anya, where you been all night?" Wade strolled closer, not really seeing her. "Ew," He looked down, wiping his boot on the grass. "I just stepped in somebody's head," He looked over at the body in the grass. "What, he eat his gun or something?" Wade got a decent look at Adanya, his eyes narrowing. "What are you wearing?" Something clicked in his head. "You were gonna _marry_ that creep?"

"You have an amazing thought process, Wilson," Wraith commented dryly, looking away from the corpse.

Victor cocked an eyebrow as Jimmy pulled Adanya away from the body, dragging her along like a child. She didn't put up a fight, too cold or too confused, tripping over the long, gauzy skirts, her frail satin slippers soaked through. The corseted bodice of her gown was splashed with gore, like bloomed roses, the scars over her breast more pronounced in her pushed up cleavage. A long, princess-style veil lay in shreds of tulle over the grass, blown into the bushes and trees by puffs of wind that mocked them, sweeping forth the rich, cloying scent of roses to mask the blood.

"Nice rack, frail." Victor commented cruelly, strolling closer to the body in the grass. Adanya made slight whimpering noises, Jimmy's arm tightening around her. "Ugh, this your boyfriend?" He nudged the body with his boot dispassionately; cocking his head to the side as he considered what was left of the younger man's head. "Kinda ugly," Under the ruffles of his ascot, the rope burns were visible on his throat.

"Victor," He crouched down beside the corpse, taking the boy's head in his hand, tipping it back to examine it in the meager light. There was a small, round hole just under his chin, the pearl handled revolver on the grass near Victor's feet. "Well, that explains the shot we heard last night," He looked at his brother over his shoulder. "Prince Charming here blew his brains out," The entire back of his head was gone, Victor's fingers sinking into shards of skull and mush, but his face was intact.

Adanya sniffled, allowing herself to be moved from Jimmy to Chris, her mind catching up with reality. She saw everything before her in a wavy blur, like looking through cheap glass at a funhouse, the other world reflected through a mirror. Her last distinct memory was leaving the bar and going home with Marshall, glass of wine in the parlor by the fire…

"Nice teeth," Elongated canines, sharp and slightly curved. Behind him, she hissed and whimpered painfully. "He into vampires, princess?" With a slippery, squelchy sound, a soupy-squishy chunk of brain slid out of place and landed in the palm of his hand. "Shit, I hate it when they do that." He let the head fall, and wiped the pinky gray mush on Marshall's coat, curling his upper lip. "He blow his brains out before or after you showed off that get-up?" He scanned the body again, visually taking in the old fashioned clothing, the gold chain of a pocket watch, ancient wedding finery that recalled an almost Victorian appeal. His hands poked out, uselessly, from the cuffs of the austere black jacket; thickly padded, calloused palms and thin, strong fingers, tipped in sharp black talons. "What the fuck," Victor lifted a hand in his own, studying the similarities between them. "What the fuck, Adanya?"

"You were supposed to marry him, weren't you?" Chris questioned pointlessly. "You weren't supposed to be in Ohio, you were supposed to be here," For lack of anything better to do, he fawned over her like a doting older brother, scanning her for injury, worrying over the spatters of ruby on her bare skin. "Addy, tell me what happened." Stryker and North were coming down the hill behind them, taking the incline easily. Stryker looked completely at ease, as though he expected to meet them there.

"The fuck," North nearly laughed. "Is all this shit?" He saw Adanya in her ruined gown; Victor and Jimmy huddled over a corpse in the grass, Wade pointing a katana at Adanya, looking furious and hurt, Dukes and Wraith holding him back.

_"You didn't tell me you were supposed to marry somebody!"_

"Well, the kid's dead," Victor announced mockingly. "Guess that's one way to get rid of your baggage." He looked up, a mocking smile on his lips. "Sir,"

"Take him inside," Stryker looked away from the corpse. "Burn it to the ground." Victor took hold of an ankle and began to drag the wasted flesh up the hill, making sure to swing the kid closer to Stryker as he passed, spattering the shine of black shoes with flecks of brain, grinning to himself when Stryker grimaced, waving a hand at Zero to clean it off his shoe. He didn't look back to see, but he was pretty damn sure North would do it.

"Do you need anything from the house?" Chris asked gently, shaking Adanya's arm. "Addy?" He gave her another nudge. "Adanya," She finally looked at him, her eyes glazed with an otherworldly sheen. "Do you want anything from the house?" According to Wraith, she had quite of bit of stuff upstairs.

"See how pretty I look?" She stepped away from him, holding her skirt out with both hands. "Pretty pretty Addy, pretty pretty Addy, pretty pretty..." She began to spin in slow circles, her skirts fanning out around her. "Pretty Addy's gonna marry Marshall!" She sang, twirling herself again, skirts billowing gracefully around her ankles. "Marshall, Marshall, Marshall, Marsha…" She froze in mid-spin, turning around slowly, looking confused. "Marshall?"

"Marshall's dead." Victor grinned at her. "Marshall ain't gonna marry pretty Addy anytime soon, princess." He dropped the ankle he'd been dragging the kid by, letting her see him sprawled in the grass, limp and lifeless.

"Oh," Both hands lifted to cover the small O of her lips, comically startled. "Oh that's not good," She exhaled behind her hands, eyes still wide. "That's not supposed to happen."

Victor chuckled, low and dark like oiled velvet. "Oh, isn't she precious?" He grinned at Jimmy. "_That's not good_," Another rumble of laughter. "You're all right princess, you wanna give ol' loverboy a kiss, a final sendoff?" He held a hand out to her. "C'mon, sweetie, I'll hold his head still for ya,"

Adanya giggled softly, both hands covering her mouth, as though Victor had said the funniest thing she'd ever heard. She fell back a step, leaning hard on Bradley, when Victor stooped to grab a leg, continuing his task. Her laughter continued long after he'd dragged the corpse up the hill, her shoulders shaking, breasts jiggling above the confines of her corset. She grew louder with each passing second, until her voice was high and shrill, the laughter pouring out of her, building up. Weakly, she fell to her knees, holding herself, still laughing, tears streaming down her face as her shoulders began to convulse. Bradley fairly leapt away, spooked.

Stryker walked to her calmly, perhaps the most he'd had to do all morning, and slapped her sharply across the face. Adanya quieted, gasping and gulping for air, still convulsing. She crawled over the grass blindly, her legs tangled in the voluminous skirts, until the leather satchel was safe in her grasp. Jimmy watched her, amazed that she could do so much at such a young age. A mass of contradictions, but a psychoanalysts' living dream.

North squinted at the muzzle of the revolver Jimmy handed him, his brow furrowed. "Is that lip gloss?" Shiny, mint scented shit on the muzzle of the gun, almost imperceptible over the residual smell of powder and discharge.

Wade paled several shades beneath his tan, seeming to forget how angry he was. "Anya, tell me you didn't put that…_thing_ anywhere near your mouth," It scared him, in ways it had no business of doing, to imagine that sweet little pistol anyplace near her head, let alone in her lips. "Anya?" She was quiet again, huddled in the grass over her book bag, mumbling another song under her breath.

Behind them, the house burst into flames. Victor strolled away from the back door, picking his teeth with his claws. "Time to go."

* * *

Once aboard the plane, Stryker readied a syringe as Zero shoved Adanya down into place on the bench. Her satchel fell aside uselessly, and it set her off again, rotten giggles rising in her throat, spilling forth like high-pitched squeals of terror.

"Zero," Stryker ripped open an alcohol swab. "Hold her still." Stryker wiped her neck, odd place, and slid the needle into her skin, injecting her with a dose of powerful sedative.

Zero sat back, watching her eyes roll back in her head. "Good night, Gracie,"

Wade snorted. "How about you leave the witticisms to me, banana boy," Zero glared at him before taking his place in the cockpit. "And keep your dirty mitts off me booty,"

Wraith glanced at him. "You still smell like weed," He snarled quietly, tipping his hat over his eyes. "Probly what set her off,"

"Yeah, because a man randomly blowing his brains out is _so_ normal." Wade rolled his eyes. "God, he put her in a wedding dress, so he could off himself." He shuddered affectedly. "And they say _I_ have issues."

"Wasn't random." Jimmy's dark eyes followed Adanya, watching her slump as best she could in her cage. "He was waiting for her." She rubbed her hands over the corset, wincing. Part of him wanted to slit the ribbons, but he was pretty sure there wasn't much underneath but her bare body.

Wade's eyebrows lifted. "You talk this out with her before she took off?"

"It's too neat." Her school bag had to have something important inside, if she kept to it like her lifeline, something he'd given her. "He was waiting for her to come ho—back," He'd seen the madness of men before, the stupidity of women; stubborn people who foolishly believed anything could be undone with time and patience and love.

"I wasn't s'posed to go home," Adanya spoke up suddenly, sniffling. "I wasn't s'posed to." Stryker looked back at her, amused.

"Why not?" Victor watched her, wanting to lick the ooze of dried blood from her split lip in the worse way.

She sniffed again, blinking several times. "I didn't love him 'nuff; he died."

"What?" Wraith stared, brow wrinkled. "He killed himself because you didn't love him?"

"When Belle found Beast dead in the rose garden, she wept and he was revived," She wiped tears off her face absently. "Marshall never woke up."

"That's just a story,"

"But it was our story," She looked up, twisting a handful of skirt. "It was ours, it was meant for us. He told me so," At the tender age of thirteen, when she pinned all her aspirations on a dream, a wish that someone could love her, despite all the filth and impurity she carried, emblazoned like a scarlet letter on her breast. Bridgett, many years ago, put her to sleep with fairy tales; princesses with long curly hair and mysterious eyes marrying princes and living happily ever after, happy little girls rescued from their woes by kind and wonderful men who never found fault, who never lifted a hand in anger, or spoke a harsh word. Marshall had been all those things, until he'd beheld her in the moonlight, clad in a silky slip and moonbeams…

"Beast died of a broken heart, he didn't blow his brains out." Victor reminded softly. "And he turned into a prince when Belle realized she loved him; she wasn't falling for an animal, she felt bad for betraying him, she still wanted the pretty boy." She looked up for a moment, something in the tone of his voice drawing her in. "You kept the monster instead of the man," His gaze was almost admiring; she was smart enough to understand they were one and the same, and still she wanted him. "Monsters don't know how to take that."

"He said it was the only way," She murmured, tears dripping onto her skirt. "So he couldn't hurt me again," Softly, her fingertips trailed over the skin of her exposed bosom. "Asked me to come home," The scent of his old fashioned roses clung to her hair. _"You are my peace,"_

"Did it work?"

"Huh?" She looked up, startled, a moment of clarity when her eyes met his and held.

"Did it work?" He repeated quietly, almost looking concerned. "Did he stop? Did you _fix_ him?" A note of condescension belied the yearning in his eyes.

"I forgot what he was," Her voice was a touch above whisper, laced with shame. "I should have known better," Another tear rolled down her cheek.

"What's that?" His face lost the tenderness of humanity, replaced yet again by the cruelty of bitter hatred.

"_Beast_." She made the word taboo, behind wide eyes and breathy whispers, a curse. "Beasts don't _love_ girls, they rip them up and eat them." She looked down at her hands. "Run, run, run, fast as you can, you can't catch me; I'm the gingerbread man." She embraced herself, biting her lower lip. "_Tyger! Tyger! Burning bright, in the forests of the night_."

"Feral, huh?" Victor flashed her a grin, baring the tip of a fang denting his lower lip. "You like the bad boys?" Beside him, pity flashed over his brother's face. So close, and yet ever so far away.

"Abashed the Devil stood, and felt how awful goodness is, and saw Virtue in her shape how lovely," Her hands snarled into claws on her shoulders. "Judy can pat the bunny, now _you_ pat the bunny." Hands relaxed, arms sliding limply to her lap.

"Anya?" Wade turned to look at her, staring down at her skirts, her hands framing the sodden, bloody mess where Marshall's head had been in her lap. He'd been strangely silent during the entire exchange, when the openings were so numerous to poke at Victor, the pussycat.

"_I was not myself last night, could not set things right with apologies or flowers_,"

"Zero," Stryker instructed calmly. "Again."

"_And as I lost control, I swore I'd sell my soul for one love, who would sing my song,_"

"Freak," He jerked her arm out straight, stabbing the needle into the crook of her elbow with little regard for pain. "You should consider, quite seriously, checking into a nuthouse."

"Unsolicited medical advice is a no-no," Wade reminded, reaching across the aisle and smacking North's behind with his open palm. "You don't make a good nurse, Davey, you don't have the right ass for the uniform." He had to be crass; Anya was just killing the mood.

"_She said days go by and hypnotize, I'm walking on a wire;_ _I close my eyes and fly out of my mind, into the fire."_

Smirking to himself, North loaded up his syringe again, shoving it deep in Adanya's neck. A fat droplet of blood oozed out when he pulled the needle away. "That was twice as much as the last, sir." He slid the vial of sedative into his pocket. "Should do the trick."

Jimmy stared. "Are you trying to kill her? She ain't got a healing factor, North."

"Just keeping her quiet," Zero smiled, patting her head roughly. "Sleep tight, sweetheart."

_"It's time for a few small repairs, she said…"_

* * *

"Victor," He felt a strong hand wrap around his wrist, fingers digging in urgently. "Don't."

"He had claws," Victor set his nails into the deep, tender scars in her breast, tracing the curl and swerve of deep, jagged wound down to her dress. "She ain't stopping me, Jimmy." He knew the scores trailed down over her ribs, ending at her side. He'd gotten hold of her, but she'd slipped away. His claws would have ripped her wide open, nearly taken her breast off. "What the fuck kinda feral hangs out in a dump like Deep Creek?"

"She's drugged," Logan implored, jerking Victor's arm, eyes on his brother. "Leave her alone." Across the aisle, a flicker of light caught Wade's katana, a tense hand over the hilt. There wasn't much room to dance, but all he needed was a split second. Wade liked to move a lot, always putting himself where he could do the most damage.

Victor snatched his hand away suddenly, staring. "The fuck?" Adanya's conscious mind was flickering; her eyes shifting from deep maroon to opaque, glassy white. "Stryker, what the fuck is she doing?"

With each flicker, a wound appeared, the pattern haphazard and dotty, but timed evenly enough for Victor to goggle over the long scratches that ran from the corners of her lips, arced back in wicked slits to her ears, to the jutting snap of a bone in her arm, thrusting up against her flesh. Long scores of laceration appeared over her flesh in sets of four; deep and nasty, Victor fancied he could fit his claws against them for a match, same pattern as her chest. Same for the bites punctuating the tender flesh of neck and shoulders, deeper punctures where fangs had sunken in. Every inch of her looked raw and fresh, but not a single drop of blood was shed, not a note of pain escaped her. It was arousing and annoying to him, to see her so ragged and not have traces of pain or fear to nurse from.

"Under medication, her biokinesis is less controlled." Stryker glanced up from his paperwork, flicking a glance at bloodless gashes, and cuts that were open enough to jab a finger into. "Everything she's altered remains altered, but she unwittingly provides a visual testament to her work. Fascinating, isn't it? Carol noticed it briefly, during her examination, though it seems to last longer when she's tired." He saw Wade's gaze flicker pointedly. "The finer scars along her neck seem to be self-inflicted." Stryker cast a long, loving glance at the remnants of long since healed wounds. "Glorious child, the things she can do." He smiled; much like a cat playing with the mouse, not quite hungry enough to eat, but allowing it to breathe before bearing down again. "It's rather odd, they've never seen anything like her before."

"Yeah, she's a real piece of work." Idly, Wade traced a long set of scratches that ran the length of her shoulder, wrapping around to dig deeper into her collarbone, ending at the hollow of her throat. "God, Anya, doesn't that hurt?" He could see her teeth through the gash along her cheek, her face ripped wide open. He knew that tactic; it was either a Glasgow smile, or someone had cut her mouth and let her screams take care of the rest.

"Those are only the most recent," Stryker continued. "As time passes, as with all wounds, they fade, but with the proper guidance, she could recall everything in her memory." He gave a soft chuckle. "Even those 'birth scars' on her shoulder."

Several precise, neat rows of raw flesh opened up on her arms, laddering up from wrist to elbow, small sores bubbling up like acid, a neat circular burn in the dip of her collarbone. Bruises along her jaw, oddly shaped, like someone had popped her in the mouth with a bottle of Jack Daniels. Her lower lip split open again, neat and clean, clear to her chin.

Adanya still hadn't made a sound, her eyes wide and blank, staring at the wall between Jimmy and Victor, sitting stiffly, like an overlarge porcelain doll that had been dropped onto a shelf and forgotten. For a half second, Victor could have sworn her lips were moving again, in silent song, but blamed it on the light playing off her skin.

There was a painfully long lull in conversation, everyone looking away from the source of unease while Wade made a game of dot-to-dot with a fingertip and the small bubbles of scorched skin on her arm, using the old lines of scar and scrape to complete his pattern. It was easy to pretend this waxy, ashen, silent thing wasn't his Anya, or anyone's Adanya, but a strange sort of animated doll set up beside him. Nope, not his Anya, 'cause _nobody'd_ hurt his playmate; b'sides, Anya didn't like people touching her, or looking at her, or ogling her in any sort of way, and this strange mannequin just took it all and didn't say boo about it. Nope, Anya was back on base waiting for him, and this weird, stiff marionette was propped up to keep him busy until he could see her again.

"Why is she here?" Bradley sounded almost sick, breaking the silence. "What are we supposed to do with her?" He cast a short glance down the aisle, shuddering inside when he noticed Victor gazing at Addy, with the same bright interest a child shows in a zoo animal or a particularly coveted toy.

"She's going to find me what I need." Stryker replied dismissively, shuffling papers back into the manila envelope. "She is here at my discretion, you don't need to know anything else." He looked her over, pale and beginning to shiver. "She'll be fine, this is just a slight…_bump_ in the road of her progression." He flicked his gaze at Victor, who was poking a finger into Adanya's shoulder curiously. "Victor!" He withdrew the finger, startled to find the digit clean.

"And then?" Wraith looked up darkly. "When she finds it?"

"Then I won't have a use for her." The same lacking, dismissive tone, as though he was speaking of using a paper cup.

"So she'll go home?" Dukes sounded vaguely hopeful.

"She'll go home." Stryker nodded sycophantically, rising. "Malcolm probably has someone waiting for her, someone to take care of her." He arched a brow, looking her over once more. "She's metabolized those drugs quickly, how long was it, Zero?" She looked perfectly normal again; the scratches vanished from her breast along with every other imperfection, leaving her whole and pale cheeked once again.

"Fifteen minutes, sir."

"Marvelous." Another sycophant smirk. "You do make me proud, Adanya, you're such a good girl." Magic words that brought her to life, drawing her gaze upward on the brass buttons of his coat. Animated, whole and clean once more, she looked like Anya again. Anya in a ruined wedding gown, with a dead almost-husband, and a burned down dream house back in that crummy little town.

"Her dad's gonna pick out her keeper?" Wade stared up at Stryker, wanting in the worst way to gouge out his eyes. "She's eighteen; she could make her own decisions if you'd stop treating her like a child." It was quite possibly the most mature statement he'd made in the history of Team X. "She's not a pet, she's a person, you can't give her away like that."

"Malcolm controls many aspects of her life, whether or not he is present to account for them." Stryker's voice was pleasantly amused, chiding. "Up you get, that's a good girl." He held Adanya's elbows, pulling her up to her feet. "Go and wash your face, it's time for sleep. You've had a rough day, and it will all be over as soon as you have some rest, understood?" He scooped up her satchel, pressing the book bag into her arms. "Don't forget your things."

Mutely, she nodded, allowing herself to be steered into line behind Jimmy and Victor, who were grumbling under their breath, loudly enough to be heard but not loudly enough to be obnoxious. Adanya followed them, cradling her leather schoolbag, dress rustling with every motion.

Victor stilled, his ears perked, hand on the hatch. "You hear music, Jimmy?"

* * *

Glen Miller, to be precise, _Pennsylvania 6500_. A tall, skinny youth in blue jeans sat cross-legged on the ground beside the record player, watching the plane with mild disinterest, a hand cranking the machine up again to finish out the song. Adanya had to be pushed from the plane, falling forward on Jimmy, trying to hide behind him as Stryker kept shunting her forward.

"Sunny girl!" A voice that sounded far too young for his body issued from the pale young man with rumpled, fussy brown hair and mismatched eyes, leaping up to greet her. "Sunny girly!" She stepped around Jimmy, looking spooked, staring at Jason like a little girl confronting the bogeyman. "You came home!" His voice resounded with cheer and affection. "Just like he said you would,"

Adanya stared at him stupidly, unsure as to what to make of this. Her body was on autopilot, pure instinct tempered by habit, her awareness floating away someplace safe and cozy, wrapped in cotton blankets and fluff, listening to a lovely thick Irish Brogue spinning fairy stories.

He stared back, his smile fading into a look of shocked anger. "What's that for, Sunny girl?" He pointed at her dress, seeing only the clean white satin and lace, the blood transforming into roses pinned to her skirt. Her silence made him uneasy. "Who are you dressed up for!" He screamed indignantly, with infantile rage, a jealous little boy playing in a grown man's body. His gaze flicked over Logan and Victor, disregarding them as anything of a threat. Same for Dukes and Wraith, North took a moment or so, and Bradley was lastly decided unfit.

He stared at Wade, sizing up his threat while the Sunny girl cowered behind the furry man, while the tall man chortled darkly. "You playing with him now, Sunny girl?" His hands balled into fists. "You dressin' up for him?"

"What the fuck, are we on Candid Camera?" Wade looked around. "Is anybody else tripping balls here but me?" He waved at a tree. "Hello, cut me a check now?"

"Answer me!" Jason almost took a step forward, stopped by a doctor in a white lab coat. Those guys were creepers, like chameleons on base. "Adanya, answer me!" He took a step forward, shaking off the hand. "Answer me, Sunny girl! You ran away!" His voice thickened with tears. "You were s'posed to be my girl forever!" He'd made that decision over Cracker Jack, when her prize was a pink ring and it was declared fate. "_My_ Sunny girl!"

"Oh my God," Adanya finally whispered, half realizing what was going on. "Oh my God." She slumped, leaning heavily on Jimmy as her support, her constant. "Hail Mary, blessed art thou among women,"

"You lied to me!" He saw tears streak her face. "You lied and now you gotta be punished!" His eyes narrowed marginally. "You were bad, Sunny girl."

"Adanya," Stryker reached over, laying a hand on her bare shoulder. She turned her head slowly; looking at his hand on her shoulder, then up at his face.

That was all it took. He reacted like lightening, slapping a hand over her mouth to cut off the howl, the other arm wrapping tightly around her waist, holding her even as she kicked out, fighting him through layers of dense confusion and medication, anger and frustration and ignorance She scratched and slapped at his arms like a demented woman, twisting and writhing, her screams muffled behind his palm.

Victor chuckled, watching her buck and jerk wildly. "How long before she pops out of that corset? Fifty bucks says two minutes,"

"See what he's done?" Stryker panted, fighting to keep his grasp on the hellcat in his arms. "Jason, you're hurting her!"

"Sunny girl!" The white coat grabbed Jason similarly, hooking his arms through Jason's, letting him yell as loud as he liked. "You let her go! Let go of her, _let her go_, she needs me!" He fought the doctor weakly; his ninety-eight pound body no match for two hundred plus pounds of muscle and fat.

"Zero, take her inside." He kept the hand over her mouth, shifting her bodily toward North. "Keep her quiet." The hand clamped over her mouth tamped down on another shriek. "Do not let her scream."

"Sir," He caught the girl with a look of shock on his normally serene porcelain face. "Sir,"

"Go." He gave them a shove, propelling North forward with Adanya still in his grip, tripping over her damn skirts as they ran. Whoever designed wedding gowns was not in the mind of a hasty exit when they dreamed up those layers of tulle and crinoline and lace, the long trailing veils and bustles and trains…then again, North mused, they probably never thought of making a dress for a girl like Adanya.

The white coat eased up on his grip, letting the twig-like arms slide free. "_Sunny girl_!" Jason's voice echoed, loud and clear and pained. "_Come back_!" His voice cracked, emotion getting the best of him. "Come back, Sunny girl, come back to me!" He whimpered, beginning to cry. "I didn't mean it, I wasn't gonna hurt you." Gripped tightly in his fist was her pink plastic ring, from the box of Cracker Jack all those years ago, one of his few personal possessions.

"Oh," Davis simpered, patting the boy's shoulder. "You frightened her away," He wrapped an arm around the boy. "Come back inside, we'll try again later. She's too upset now." They walked, slowly and stumbling every few steps, toward Building L, a place none of Team X had ever been escorted to, or wanted to explore. Stryker followed, his face set and stony, murmuring to himself under his breath.

"Welcome to the booby hatch," Wade gave a hollow laugh, following North's path slowly, for the first time in a long time, mirthless and heavy.

"I need a drink," Wraith muttered darkly. "This is too much fucking drama for me,"

"See, this is why we don't get girls." Dukes commented to Bradley, in an undertone. "This is why chicks aren't brought in, they cause all sorts of grief, people act like fucking morons," They fell into step, one behind the other. "They think they're so tough, they can do _anything_," Dukes continued harshly. "_Bullshit_." He looked over his shoulder at the short man behind him. "You look at her and tell me she can do…" His voice went thick for a moment, choking off his words. "Bullshit."

"That girl," Logan commented finally, standing alone beside his brother. "Has got more problems than Carter's got liver pills."

"Damn Billy," Victor laughed, a short, choking chortle. "You sure know how to pick 'em."

* * *

Firstly, my apologies for the delay. This veered _waay _off my intended course, and then it got uber-long and then I ended up in Chesapeake, (etc) and somehow I had to flesh out some things, and a whole bunch of stuff ended up being cut (Anna (Adanya) /Dentist, Adanya/Marshall scenes, Wade/Maggie, Marty/Andy/Emmy/Wade scenes) etc) and finally I realized it opened up a whole new possibility for the Wade/Anya/Jason triangle. And some seriously tweaked Wade Wilson.

The coin toss in the last chapter is resolved; Marshall gave her the scars on her breast. It was either that, or they were self-inflicted. Kudos to Black Wolf-Dog, who was the only person to correctly guess that Marshall was her fiancé.

References in order of appearance; (I know I said I'd end with a chapter detailing all the historical refs, but this is more of a "I quoted this and this is whom I quoted")

_Untamed Heart_ - "Wishing on a planet." _The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas_ - "Ches'peakes got a whore-house in it," _Love Shack_ -- If nobody caught this, they have my sympathy. **B-52s** are not that old. _Beauty and the Beast – _Again, if nobody caught this, they have my sympathy. I mentioned it by name. "_Come Josephine in my flying machine_" is a song from the year 1911; Ada Jones and Bill Murray, a song about a young man going to see his girl in an airplane. _The Gingerbread Man – _this is an old, old folktale we've probably all heard a few times over, and I'd love to give credit, but the original author is unknown, and though several people take credit for rewrites, I'm leaving it without a name. _The Tiger_ – William Blake - "Tyger! Tyger" _Paradise Lost_; book four. John Milton (1667) - "Abashed the Devil stood…" Powerful, epic poem about the Christian tale of the Fall of Man. Pat the Bunny - "_Judy can pat the bunny, now y_ou_ pat the bunny_." Pat the Bunny is a classic children's first touch-and-feel book that was published in I've never personally owned a copy, I assume Adanya has at some point (she's never told me otherwise) _Phantom of the Paradise_ 'Faust' (1974)- "I was not myself last night…"/"And as I lost control…" I feel this song fits Marshall really well. "_Sunny Came Home_." (1996) Shawn Colvin. I feel the meaning of this song, a desperate woman seeking a way out of her prison (home), fits Adanya nicely too.

This..._drivel_ sounds much more romantic in French, and it's meant to be as corny and sappy as I could make it without gagging. _Bleh_.

"My angel, please, I do not wish you caress you among strangers, and talk among thieves. They steal you from me, they yearn for you, they long for the light in your soul, for the enchantment in your gaze. Steal away from the thorns, Belle, venture into the secret garden."

Apparently, that sort of crap works when you're trying to woo your ex-fiancée.


	10. Chapter 10

Stryker's voice was cold. "Zero, take her to the infirmary. I want her examined."

"I want to go to sleep," Adanya argued, held up mostly by Zero's grip on her upper arm. "Please? Please, Uncle Billy, I just want to go to sleep." A childish, faraway plea that stole him back in time, huge maroon eyes staring out at him from a child's face. "You said I could go to sleep,"

The children born into the program were incurably beguiling; he saw tiny figures clutching at her skirts, clinging to the fabric, all staring at him with wide, haunted eyes that seemed to take up half their faces. Phantom children, closing in tightly around her like a beloved governess, adding their void stares to hers. Vulnerability, a gift leant to her by her mother. All of them held that look, soft and weak, pliable and endearing. Jason had that haunted look once, before Adanya had come into their lives, that selfsame defenseless appeal. _Love me, hold me, protect me_…she wasn't supposed to know words, and yet she'd called out to him.

_Damn you, Mal! Damn you to Hell for taking her!_

"Please," Adanya's soft voice sent a chill down his spine. He could almost hear her, _pease, da-ee, pease, home_. "Please, Uncle Billy, I just want to go to sleep now." The phantom children added their stares to hers, beseeching, blindly stupid, pleading for mercy, a kind word. How they crowded, when they could get close enough, clawing at hands and clothing, begging for even a moment of attention, some scrap of interaction. A memory came, unbidden, of the toothless, crooked smile of one tiny skeleton girl, as she touched her chest with a withered hand, over the spot a man had placed his own hand to shove her away.

"Sir?"

The skeletal, wide-eyed specters melted away, leaving only the tattered, disheveled Adanya in their midst. He looked away from her, an ashy taste in his mouth. "Get her away from me." He could feel her gaze upon him like dozens of tiny hooks, clawing at his skin, drawing him to her.

"Please?" Adanya's voice came out light and airy, though Stryker heard a tiny, rusty squeak of _pee-eese_. In his mind's eye, she shrunk down to toddler height, barely ten pounds in all, huge eyes and close cropped hair, a pair of eye teeth that dented her lower lip; staring out at him from the damp, rotten-flesh smelling concrete cell. Tiny hands on the iron bars, holding herself up, balancing on her toes, staring out at the men in uniforms with shiny black boots as they strolled past with spearmint-soaked tissues held over their faces. Out of fourteen, she was the only one standing, watching them walk by.

Pease. Pee-eese, Dah-ee, pay-eese. Hoome.

"Get her away from me!" Zero hastened to comply, grabbing her by the shoulders.

* * *

With every step away from Adanya, Stryker felt as though he was growing taller and stronger, each breath going in deeper and purer, power and strength bubbling in his veins, propelling him on with purpose that set others, his superiors no less, to the side so that he may pass. Jason was waiting, under the watchful eye of the team of doctors holding the keys to his kingdom, the set of geneticists and quacks willing to make a monster out of glue-together people parts.

"What's she doing with him?" Jason growled at a nearby nurse, glaring at her. "That…that boy with the swords, what's she doing with him?" The frightened, freckled girl squeaked and scurried away like a mouse, skittering past laughing colleagues.

"Wade?" Stryker smiled coolly at his son. "He's her _friend_, Jason, she _likes_ him."

"No she doesn't," Jason shouted, his voice crackling. "She doesn't like anybody but me, he's making her stay," He nodded quickly, making it feel truer than it sounded. "She hates him, hates it there, she can't wait to come back to the sun room and play with me,"

"Oh, but she does like him." He leaned against the table, idling, watching the boy seethe. "She's quite taken with him. As a matter of fact, Adanya's had a few boys chasing after her."

"She has not!" Jason yelled, horrorstruck. "She's not a bad girl!"

Stryker smiled to still see Jason's emotions flickering like a candle in the breeze. Love, hate, sin, purity; Madonna and the whore, Adanya Winters. "She's been very bad, Jason, making you stay here, waiting for her." He made his face into something pitiable, pooching out his lower lip into the beginnings of a frown. "Playing with other boys, letting those boys _do_ things." He let his words fall carelessly, planting the seeds of doubt in what was left of Jason's mind.

"She did not," Jason breathed, voice barely above a whisper. "She wouldn't." He fell back on a bed, holding his stomach as though he'd been punched.

"She's like a wild animal now, Jason," Stryker folded his face into a frown. "She's lost, confused, frightened. She doesn't understand what to do, " He gestured with open hands, as if seeking an answer. "So very confused, people have been…unkind to her. They've taken advantage of her confusion. You know dear, sweet little Adanya, she's so eager to please, people are bound to…abuse that trust."

"Somebody," Jason licked his lips, mouth dry. "Somebody hurt her?"

"Yes, I think so," Stryker nodded, deepening the lines of his frown into something bordering on pantomime. "Very _badly_, if I'm not mistaken, and she's…she's so lost, Jason, I'm worried about her, but she won't listen to me. You know how headstrong a girl she is, so independent." He shook his head, watching Jason from the corner of his eye. "She's…she needs help, Jason, but she's afraid to ask for it."

"Why?" His fingers worked restlessly on the blanket, pilling the thin wool, picking at fibers. "Why is she afraid?" Fear was dark clouds, heavy and gloomy, cast over the brightness of the playroom, darkening his Sunny girl's heart into a puddle of gray-white snow mush.

Stryker pulled a face, forcing his expression into an understanding, fatherly smile. "Because she is alone." His smile twitched, growing warmer, as Jason realized what he was meant to do.

* * *

_"I'm going to get up and walk out the front door," She stood up on trembling legs, her knees weak. "And I'm going to walk back into town. You're not going to follow me, and you're not allowed to say another word. I don't want this, Marshall, this isn't real and it isn't right and I don't belong here."_

_"Sit," He pointed a clawed finger at her, he'd been neglecting his nails. The finger shook slightly. "I didn't say you could get up."_

"_You're just like my father,"_ _Fire snapped up in her eyes._ _"You want to me to be a child forever, a sweet and stupid little girl that you can pick up and play with when it's convenient, when it suits you. You want me to be a woman, to be grown and mature…but when you get me, you can't stand it!" Her voice rose childishly, underscoring what she was trying to hide._ _"I am not a little girl anymore, Marshall! You can't keep me a child forever!"_

_"I am nothing like your father!" Marshall roared, the windows rattling in their panes. "You, you are exactly like your blessed father, Adanya, you're the one who ran away!" She fell back on the settee, shaken and deafened by his voice. He waited a moment, collecting himself, looking down at her. "You didn't have to run away from me. I wasn't going to hurt you," He knelt, his huge, paw like hand wrapped around hers. "I didn't mean to hurt you, but you knew better, you had to know better." Tenderly, he traced the tip of a claw over her knuckles. "I warned you, it had to be proper. We had to be married, you had to understand the…I wasn't ready for you."_

_Adanya slipped her hand free of his, inching away. "I'm going back to my friends, and back to the bar, and you're going to stay here." She slid off the end of the settee, stuck in the space between it and the longer divan. "You're gonna let me go." She took half a step toward the divan, eyes on his._

_"You're not leaving me again," He leapt to his feet with eerie grace, towering over her, closing off her path of escape with a short move, keeping her close to the settee, her back to the fire. "You promised me…I waited on you, Adanya, I waited for you to grow up, for you to stop being…" He looked at his palms, as though the lines carved across his flesh held the answers to his questions. "You were supposed to fix me."_

_"What?" She exhaled slowly. "Is that why you wanted me here? Is that it? You wanted me to fix you?" She blinked, looking around. "You built me a castle, you made this whole fairy tale world for us…so I'd fix you?" Pity mingled with confusion in her gaze. "Are you serious?"_

_"Belle cured the Beast," His thick, heavy voice was cracked and broken; he sounded like a man dying. "When she wept, he was revived, a prince. A man worthy of her. I've waited, so many years, so many lifetimes, to find my Belle. You're the girl, you're warmth and healing and love; you're Belle."_

_Adanya bit her lower lip. "We're people, Marshall, not storybooks. People don't live like this, we won't last forever, a lifetime isn't what it used to be." She crossed her arms under her breasts, holding tightly to herself. "You wasted both our lives on this…this isn't real, and it's not coming true. None of this is going to work or be real, is it? I'm not Belle, and you're not the Beast. We're Adanya and Marshall, a couple kids nobody was going to miss in this Podunk little town."  
_

_"But you're Belle," He traced the very tip of his bluntest claw over her cheek, a thin trail of red in its wake. "And I'm a Beast."  
_

_"What if Belle was a beast too?" Adanya sniffed. The line over her cheek was closing up, sealing over and fading into her flesh seamlessly. Marshall's finger twitched, opening a fresh, deep cut along the corner of her eye. "What happens then?"_

Adanya looked at a photograph in her lap, from the Halloween party Emily had in honor of her sixteenth birthday. She and Emily were posing with a jack-o'-lantern between them, as devil and angel. Emily looked a touch angelic, her costume was mainly white and sparkled, a jaunty halo was draped over her hair like a headband. Adanya looked irrefutably wicked, from the shiny black boots to her red and black costume. "What if Belle was a beast?" She murmured softly, tracing herself in the picture, the very picture of mirth and vitality. "What, indeed?"

"You okay, pookie?" Wade stepped in and closed the door behind him. "You get quiet and we all get nervous,"

"A gentleman knocks before he enters the room," Adanya set the picture aside, looking up at him from her voluminous skirts. "And waits for an invitation."

He snorted roughly. "A _lady_ doesn't forget to mention she has a fiancée until he's dead." He looked her over. "You look like death warmed over. Remind me to skip your next wedding."

"Touché," She inclined her head, conceding victory to him. "I was hoping I'd never have to mention him again, to be honest." She shrugged, looking at the wall without really seeing it. "I wasn't supposed to go back. I kinda knew this would happen, even if I did try and call, make sure he was alright."

Wade sat beside her. "Yeah, I caught that on the plane, actually." He exhaled in a slow whistle. "So…what's with the get up, exactly?"

Adanya looked at herself, as though wondering what was so unusual about her attire. "He wanted to see it," She smoothed a crease in her ruined skirt. "He wanted to see what it would have looked like, to see me walking out and through the garden to him, down the bridal path and to the waters edge." A sad smile tugged at her lips. "The end of the story, as it was. Beast realized Belle was never going to be what he needed; he'd never find that last piece. So he beckoned her for a kiss and met her lips briefly, only to end his half of the kiss with a puff of smoke and a sound that broke her ears." Her ears were still ringing faintly. "She wept, to no avail, he'd found his peace in oblivion."

"Wow," Wade commented finally. "You should write those shitty romance novels housewives pretend not to read, y'know the ones where there's like six or seven sex scenes and you always know where they are because the spines are broken and they fall open to the exact page where Brave Sir Studly's about to thrust his manhood into Lady Innocence of the Heaving Bosoms."

"They aren't very well written," Adanya's lips quirked as though she might smile, pulling her knees up, wrapping her arms around her legs. "And I haven't got the right sort of imagination."

"No, you don't really." Wade frowned, a faint crease appearing between his eyebrows. "You could write something though, all the shit you've done."

"I don't remember half of it, to tell the truth," She rubbed at a rusty brown-red patch on her skirt, over her knee. "I can think about it and tell you what happened, but it overlaps and doesn't make much sense after a while. It's there but it's not, you know? Sometimes I wonder if I've really done all the things I know I can do."

"I'm really… _amazed_ I'm not more pissed with you," Wade had taken a butterfly knife from his boot and was absently flipping it in his left hand, while he spoke to her. "I mean, I blew a guy's head off for taking the last goddamn cheese curl once, and here we are without you dead, disemboweled, or dismembered."

Adanya looked at her hands. "I have that affect on people," She admitted quietly. "Sometimes they get a good enough look at me and forget why they're upset. It works on my dad, sometimes,"

"And here you are hiding the fact you were supposed to marry some random weirdo pedo-creep and I can't think of anything I'd like to string you up with," Wade sounded genuinely distressed at his lack of blood thirst. "I mean, give me a break. By all rights, I'm the one that gets to sit and bitch about this, not you in your stupid little frou-frou Barbie collection wedding dress." He threw a look at her. "Which makes you look fat, by the way." _No it doesn't, you're just being an ass._ **Shut up! **_Well you are, ass-jockey, look she's crying again. _**Aw fuck. Is there a moment when she's not crying?**_ Could we get back to the story now, we're distracting Wade from being all suave and sensitive. _Yes, kindly shut the fuck up._ Oh fuck you, we're in _your_ head, asshole._

"I'm sorry," _Barbie's wedding dress looks nothing like this, either._

"Where did you get those scars on your neck?" He balanced the knife on his fingertip, looking at her without seeing her.

"What?" Her hands betrayed her, fingers straying up to brush over the side of her neck

"You heard me." He pointed the knife at her throat, eyes narrowed. "We're having it all out now, Anya, no more secrets." She blinked, staring at him. "You even think something dirty you're fucking telling me, I'm not rescuing your ass from some nut with a crush because you like the same brand of bubblegum."

"You didn't rescue me," She shook her head, curls bouncing. "You showed up is all, I would have been fine."

"Bullshit." Wade pointed the knife at her, at her heart. "You were fucked up."

"No I wasn't," She shook her head again. "Not until Chris wanted me to be."

"What?"

"Chris wanted me to be hysterical," Adanya sighed, lifting her shoulders a bit, wincing. "He wanted me to do something, say something, _anything_, so he could fix it." The corset slipped a touch, baring more of her breasts. "I was too calm. It didn't feel right. I should have been screaming and crying and ripping my hair out…things _Adanya _does. Being irrational and freaking out over an inch of bare skin." She rubbed her palms over her arms, trying to warm herself. "I'm not always like that, it just happens sometimes, I get high-strung. It's like a default state."

"Things Adanya does?" Wade repeated, bemused. "I could write a book of those and publish it. Mankind would thank me on bended knee, shower me with gifts and naked women, put my picture on billboards…" He glanced at her. "Sorry, got off track. Default states,"

"When Marshall shot himself," Wade tensed a little. "It was like my head cleared up for a minute." Her words came slowly, as though she was choosing them very delicately. "I caught him for a second, when he fell, and I let him down gently," Her bodice was awash with his blood, dried and crusty, flaking off in tiny brown chips. "He deserved that, at least. And when I sat with him, it was like the watching the fog clearing over a valley when the sun comes up, how everything looks all misty and dreamy until the sun bathes everything in light. The sound of the gun was my light," She shrugged again, fidgeting her hands in her lap. "I could see everything, and it all made sense and fit together like in a jigsaw puzzle. Like the whole world just cleared up and I was…I felt settled."

"I sat with him, and I didn't know what else to do, so I started singing. Old favorite songs, things he'd written; I was waiting for my ears to heal enough so I could hear something. It's terrifying, not being able to hear, not knowing what's going on in the world around you. I'd rather be blind than deaf," Adanya's ears prickled when her skirts rustled, every sound magnified for a moment as her body readjusted internal settings, balancing out the undercurrent of background noise. "When the rest of you showed up, I could hear a little, not enough to say so, but I could hear Jimmy and I felt Chris. He was scared at how quiet I was. So I started up."

"There was lip gloss, on the gun." Wade watched her, eyes narrow. "You wanna tell me what that was about?"

"I waited until I knew for sure it would work," She studied the backs of her hands, heat rising to stain her face with guilt. "And I thought very seriously about shooting myself."

"Jesus, Anya." Wade paled, staring at her. "Why?"

_Because it worked, you dolt._ "When I was thirteen, I broke a Mason jar and jammed it into my aorta," Adanya looked away, more annoyed than embarrassed. "When that didn't seem to work, I took a shard and slit my throat, all the way across." She drew her finger across her throat, tracing the faint line she'd drawn ages ago. "I took another piece and ripped it here," She tapped the side of her neck, veins visible under her skin. "And here," Opposite side, same line. "It took me all of a minute to bleed out, and five to come back to my head. Maggie was furious,"

"That you tried to kill yourself?" Wade inquired faintly. "You're not fucking with me, either, you really did it." He could see a faint, faint line at the side of her neck. "They never really faded out all the way, did they, not there."

"The mess I made of her bathroom. It was a perfectly white, pristine room that I painted from floor to ceiling with red." The world was red when she woke up, lying in the broken glass that littered the floor. "Maggie hated the color red, the color of sin and lust, the color of whores. She tried to gouge my eyes out one night, when I was asleep. I broke both her arms, her left shoulder, and I snapped her neck before I realized it." Adanya felt herself smiling, a tickle of laughter in her words. "When I came to, I fixed her neck and called the cops. Told them she fell down the cellar steps trying to get a jar of peaches."

"What's the joke?" Wade stared at her, still pale. "I don't get how this is funny to you, some bitch tried to gouge your eyes out."

"We didn't have a cellar, and Maggie hated peaches," Adanya giggled. "She hated fruit, she hated anything sweet. She used to put vinegar in her oatmeal, garlic in all her food, she over-salted everything she cooked." She giggled again, girlish and sweet. "_Everybody_ knew that." Her laughter died down. "After that, for a while anyway, I was allowed to go out by myself. She was afraid of me, she said I was Satan's child,"

"So you can be manipulative," Wade struggled over his words, trying to imagine her dead on the floor of a solid red bathroom, the walls painted with her life. For some odd, unsettling reason, he couldn't. "Wicked and suicidal, bi-polar, manic…what _are_ you supposed to be, Anya?"

"I can be a lot of things," She sobered, her smile vanishing. "I can be _anything_. He taught me, how to be anything anybody wanted me to. I can be sweet and charming, I can be a killer, I can be shy. I can learn anything, I can teach anyone, I can _do_ everything…I think." She looked at him, beseeching. "I want to be normal," The corner of her lips twitched, an _Adanya_ thing. "Like other girls, like everyone else. I was starting with Sunny; I was flirting with men, I let them buy me drinks and bring me things, I was making progress towards being a normal teenage girl." She exhaled shakily and looked down at her lap. "Progressive exploration in the realm of intimate social interaction, that's what he said." She looked at her hands, then down at her lap. "See what it gets me?"

"Who?" Wade leaned forward and stretched, the knife sitting still in his fingers.

Obligingly, she turned to face him. "Mr. Forge, when I asked him why people bothered to meet and fall in love." He made her dizzy and gave her headaches. "He taught me how to read metal, to skitz the color scheme into words so I could see what they are, like with the metal we found in Chesapeake. He worked in the top-secret, 'no girls allowed' labs; going down there without permission got me punished, until they realized I'd learned something useful. They never punished me when I did something good." She looked ruefully at her hands, her broken nails. "Learned fast, you have to be good."

"Huh," Wade sat back, knife whirling end over end in his hand again. "So…you were trained to be a chameleon?"

"I want to be normal," She sniffed, nose twitching becomingly. "Like you. Normal people don't do this," She indicated herself. "And they don't think like this, or act like this, or even dream of this."

Wade grinned despite himself, slinging an arm around her shoulders and pulling her over to lean on him. "I can't believe you're so damaged you think I'm normal." Easily, he tucked an errant lock of hair behind her ear, drawing her attention away from self-pity. "You're probably more normal than most people here, Anya. I mean, we all jumped at the chance to get paid to kill people, Stryker offered you a place to stay that wasn't going to change in two weeks and you almost cried."

"Pretty stupid, huh?" Adanya relaxed as best she could in the laced bones of her cage, tucked under Wade's arm. "I should just let them take me in completely, I'd be a pretty good soldier if I wasn't so emotional." She rubbed her ribs, feeling only the steel boning of her pretty cage. "God, this thing hurts." She looked at him sideways. "You're really warm," He gave off heat like a furnace; it was dizzyingly wonderful and made her train of thought veer off into cotton-candy clouds of fluff.

"You're not stupid, Anya," Wade turned her shoulders, picking at the double-knotted laces of her corset. "Sure you're kinda crazy, and you look funny when you first wake up in the morning, and you act like you're bi-polar, and just when you start to make sense you jump off the deep end…but you're pretty," She exhaled, laughing under her breath. "And you smell good." His fingers worked the knots loose easily; undoing what had taken fifteen minutes in a mere thirty seconds.

"Oh thank God," Adanya twisted around, the corset finally loose enough for her to take a full breath. "I thought I smelled horrible. It's a cause of paranoid social awkwardness, you know, ranks right up there with chronic halitosis and acne."

He grinned despite the atmosphere of unease. "That's my girl." He flicked the knife tip over the ribbons, slitting them completely. "Jesus, damn, did you crack a rib?" Her skin was deep red between shafts of angry pink, where the boning had bitten into her flesh.

"He always laced them too tight," She held the front of the corset tight, keeping her back to him. "I didn't like wearing them, but it was…nice, having someone dress me. Closest thing to intimate contact I ever got, aside from some kissing," She relaxed, sighing as her ribs reset themselves. "But he liked treating me like a little doll, to dress and pamper and play house with." _Let me dress you doll, let me brush your hair._

Wade gave her a quick look-over. "I could dress you up."

Adanya looked back over her shoulder with a smirk. "I don't think so. I'd never get any clothes on."

"So we're good?" Wade arched his back and stretched his arms out, muscles rippling. "No more suicide, no more creepy guys, no more crazy?" He looked at her backside appraisingly. "But damn do you make it look good,"

"I don't know if we can cancel out crazy altogether, but I don't have any more creepy fiancées." Adanya gave a breathy laugh. "The few ex-boyfriends I have are normal, I don't have any family that I'm close to." She hugged the corset a little tighter, the sides folding back, flapping loosely. "Unless you count my dad."

"Nice back," Wade admired the uneven string of pearls that was her spine. He reached up and pulled the bobby pins out of her hair, letting it fall loose over her bare shoulders. "I like this," He admired the contrast, translucent skin and dark, tangled curls. "You look better naked, you know, you should really just forget your clothes one morning."

"Why thank you, kind sir, but I prefer being clothed." She rose to her knees, wincing when her stiff legs protested. "I'm not into public nudity, sorry."

"Fair enough," Wade got to his feet easily, looking down on her, the knife back in his hand. "One more thing," Adanya turned, still clutching the corset to her chest. "That tweak, _Jason_. He was waiting for you." The blade was pointed at her heart.

She stood, looking at him almost shyly. "Jason and I were friends, when we were little. I wasn't allowed to play with anyone else when he was around, he has a terrible temper, he's horribly jealous. He used to chase all my pets away, he drove off all my friends, all the girls who came to visit." Her skirt rustled when she moved toward the dresser. "I wasn't allowed to have anyone else but Jason, because he gave me sunlight when the rooms were dark." A shiver rolled down her spine, undulating and snaky. "He calls me his Sunny Girl because I gave him a reason to make the shadows disappear," She pulled a sweater set out of the drawer, her back still to Wade. "He'd kill the both of us, right now, if he knew what we were up to."

"Yeah, you didn't kill me for taking your top off," Wade caught the knife by the tip. "You aren't even bothered by it." He almost grinned. "You like it, when it's just us, don't you? You're a lot more cooperative when we're alone."

Adanya gazed over her shoulder at him. "You didn't _make_ me do anything," The flayed corset fell to her feet. "I let you. It's different," Carefully, she slid her arms into the sleeves, keeping her back to him. "This isn't sexual. You helped me, is all." She pulled the sweater up and over her head in a quick motion, pulling it down before he had a chance to see anything. "Unless you get some sort of cheap thrill helping girls through moments of crisis."

"You owe me a nickel," Wade slipped out of her room silently, the only indication he'd gone was the closing of her door.

* * *

"You're not wearing a bra, Anya," Wade glanced at her when she walked out of her room, wearing two layers underneath her sweater and tights under her skirt. "You're not cold either, you're trying to hide something."

"Says you," Unconsciously; she crossed her arms over her chest, her face turning pink.

"Says me," Wade agreed, rolling his eyes. "And says the fact that you just crossed your arms to hide your boobs."

"I still hurt from being laced up," Her face flushed darker. "You can't really see anything though, can you? I tried to…" She slumped into herself, falling back on the couch, still slouching. "It just _hurts_."

Wade charmed her with a smirk. "Hey, don't explain yourself to me," She glanced up, blushing a little less. "You don't feel like putting on your clothes, go right ahead. We're all mature, responsible adults here," Wraith and Logan snickered. "We can take a little female frontal nudity,"

"We can take a lot, actually."

Wade chucked a beer can across the table. "Shut up, Fred."

"I'll just bet you can," Adanya hugged herself tighter, shivering. "Poker?" The archetype of male boredom and bonding.

"They suck; I'm bleeding them like Sweeney Todd over here," Wade tossed in his cards and scooped up his winnings. "I just wanna put it all in a pool and go swimming in it."

Chris looked over at her from his side of the table. "You feeling okay, Addy, you want a beer or something?" He scooped up the cards and shuffled the deck without looking at it, trying to gauge her reaction.

"I'm fine," Her nose twitched and she sniffled absently. "I think I'm fine, anyway, I'm not really sure yet." A soft, childish voice floated in from the hall. "Do you hear that?" It sounded like children playing hide and seek, pattering footsteps of hard-soled shoes echoing off the cement, giggling voices. _"I'm gonna get you!" _Adanya got up, walking toward the hallway, listening for the voices to come closer. A flash of blue denim darted across the hall, just beyond her line of vision, but she knew the girl was there. She knew the girl had braided hair and blue Keds, and her pink shirt had a patch of red stain on the collar from a tooth she'd lost on the playground.

"Hey Addy, I ever show you my tattoo?" Fred's deep voice drowned out the shriek of laughter. _"Gotcha!"_

"What?" She turned back around. "Oh, I did it again, huh?" She sat on the arm of the couch, shoulders slumped. "Maybe it's not working."

"Anya, pookie, something you'd like to share with the class?" Wade looked mildly interested. "Or was that all for dramatic effect? _Dun, dun, dun_."

"Did any of you hear something?" She looked back at the hall. "I thought I heard someone." She sighed, brow furrowed. "I don't _see_ anything, but I can hear them."

Wade flicked a pretzel at her. "Anya, we talked about this, remember? No more crazy."

"I thought I heard someone," She argued weakly, dodging the second pretzel. Wade tossed them at her like ninja stars. "Will you stop that!"

"No more crazy." He wagged a finger at her reproachfully. "You're not allowed to be crazy, that's mine. You get to be cute and harmless."

"I was probably just hallucinating, that happens sometimes." Adanya offered up offhandedly, running a hand through her hair. "But it felt so real,"

"Me too," Wade relented with a smirk. "Go us."

"Team Wade." She agreed half-heartedly. "I think I'm going to take my pills and go to sleep."

"No more crazy," Wade murmured distractedly, rearranging cards in his hand. "Cute and harmless," His brain caught up to his ears. "What pills?" Adanya was already gone, her door closed. Wade could hear strains of Leslie Gore from her record player. "Aah, damn, she's getting ready for bed."

"You calmed her down pretty fast," Wraith commented nonchalantly, though his gaze flicked from Wade to her door. "All things considered,"

"She loves me," Wade feigned hurt when Wraith chuckled. "I'm like the chick whisperer," He leaned over, talking to Victor in hushed, conspirational tones. "You can't teach that shit, it's genetic."

Victor snorted. "Wade can do it, anybody can."

"Thanks for that vote of confidence, Vic, but let it be known, you still haven't fallen for my charm," Victor snorted. "Or my tight ass,"

"I fold," Dukes set down his hand, picking up his beer. "You cheatin', Wilson?" The kid was a crafty gambler; he'd won more than any of them had made in a good year at least twice over.

"If I was, you think I'd own up to it?" Wade snickered as he leaned his chair back on two legs. "Bitches are paying for my beer runs. Speaking of," Wade waved his empty bottle. "Oh Christina!" Bradley grumped under his breath as he set his cards down, stumping back with a fresh beer in hand.

"Why don't you make Adanya do your bitch work?" He picked up his cards with a little frown. "She's all domesticated, hell she'd probably love it. Give her something to do,"

Victor's face broke into a chilling, wicked smile. "Got a new bet,"

"Ooh, which one dies in the morning?" Wade trilled, letting his chair fall back on all fours. "No, don't tell me. It's…Jimmy…in the shooting range, with a big purple dildo." He held his hands a foot apart. "About yeah long, right?"

"Different," Victor jutted his chin at Bradley. "Get the book." The small man sighed and scampered to comply.

"What's it this time?" He thumbed through the pages of old bets, ranging from a burping contest to the outcome of a boxing match. "How soon before Addy decides to kill Wade for the betterment of mankind?" He pulled the pen out of the spine, settling on a blank page. "How long before Addy finally goes off the deep end into the land of the drooling?"

"I bet," Victor made a little show of setting his hands, palms down and fingers spread to display his nails, on the table. "Three grand on the fact that Wade cannot fuck Adanya in three months time."

"Huh?" Bradley's' pen hand hovered over the blank page, mouth agape.

Another chilling little smile. "You heard." He inspected his nails nonchalantly. "Write it down, Bradley, before I do it for you. On your backside."

"That's a sucker's bet." He argued pointlessly. "That's like betting he can't jack off twice in ten minutes," A bet they'd all lost, even Zero.

"Call it what you will," Victor leaned his chair back on two legs, hands behind his head, lounging idly. "But it's on the table."

Wade sniggered like a hyena. "You wanna _pay_ me three thousand dollars to fuck Anya?" He laughed again; as though it was the funniest thing he'd ever been privy to hearing. "Shit, sign me up."

"You got three months," Victor clarified, eyeing Wade with little interest. "And you can't knock her out or get her drugged, she has to be a willing participant."

"Won't need more'n a day," Wade waved a hand. "Better bust open that piggy bank, Vicky."

"Doesn't matter." Victor slid a stack of bills across the table; Bradley didn't bother counting as he stashed it in the little lockbox. "You got three months, and _she_ has to own up to it too." That creepy smile was back in place. "None of that bullshit about she's _shy_. She has to confirm, and I'll know if she's lying."

"Addy wouldn't do that," Bradley scribbled down the details, shaking his head. "She's too...sheltered."

Wraith set his beer down. "Put me down for two-fifty against." Bradley nodded, scribbling down the note as he took the cash. "You in, Dukes?"

"Dunno," His dark eyes narrowed as his brow furrowed. "She ain't...I don't think.... she's better than this shit,"

"Six thousand if Fred fucks her." Bradley snickered. "_Without_ ripping her in half."

"You leave me right the fuck out of this." Dukes scowled, cracking his knuckles. "I ain't fucking nobody in this room,"

"She's in her own room, actually." Wade pointed out cheerfully. "And she's pretty bendy; I bet she could do that whole twisty pretzel thingie,"

A quiet voice chimed in from the door. "I put in a cool ten if _Logan_ can fuck her first,"

"North!" Wade squealed, forgoing his usual greeting. "I think I just wet myself, you're joining our little ghoul pool!" Victor chuckled darkly.

"Bet's still on the table. Wade gets three months to pop the cork on that sweet little bottle of cherry wine." North set his cash down. "Or he gets his ass handed to him. Sounds fair."

Wade snickered. "That was kinda gay, Davey. But I'll still take your money."

"Is there anyone else in?" Bradley looked around the table. "Anyone against?"

Dukes looked guilty. "I'm in," He scribbled down his bet and signed his name with a sigh. "Poor kid," He passed the book to Wade, looking away as the youth scribbled down his name with a flourish, still giggling impishly.

"You in, Jimmy?" Victor's sly grin flashed fangs at him, just enough to look menacing. Wade slid the book over, laughing under his breath like a child on a sugar high.

"Not on this," He threw the book back at Wade with a sound of disgust. "You'd best pray she doesn't find out, either, if you enjoy having a dick to play with."

"Anya's a pussycat," Wade pushed the book aside, taking up his cards again. "I got that girl's number; she's mine _whenever_ I want her." He shuffled his hand, grinning like an idiot. "Easiest fucking money I ever made."

"Not when you start her up," Logan shook his head. "She wouldn't be here if she was just another cute piece of ass, they wouldn't give her a room if she was here just to play slap and tickle,"

"Then what is she here for?" Wraith tipped his hat back and looked across the table somberly. "What's her point here; far as we've seen, she's not much good for anything but screaming and crying,"

"Ever stop and think that's just a front?" Logan snarled, staring Wraith down hard. "Stryker _wants_ us all to underestimate her, start lookin' after her because after all, she's such a frail little thing, a regular _pussycat_," He spit the word hatefully. "Then what? She gets her nails in good and deep, all of us are just crazy about her…and then she rips your fucking heart out through your balls."

"Addy wouldn't do that," Dukes grunted, picking up his cards and setting them down again. "I'm still out."

"No girl has been that many places and done that many things without picking up a trick or two," Logan continued doggedly. "I'm not calling her off as a whore, but she hasn't gotten along that well on her pretty face and naïve charm,"

"You think you know Anya so well," Wade didn't look up from his casual perusal of his cards, his expression startlingly calm and aloof. "You wanna tell me why you're the only one she's gotten to, old timer?"

"I'm not the one creeping in her room for pillow talk," Logan spit, watching Wade flinch almost imperceptibly. "_Tame_ her," He snorted. "You don't have the first fucking clue, Wilson, of what you're playing with."

The youth pasted a cocky look back into place. "No, you just pull her aside for pep talks and call her _punkin_," He snickered, mockingly, shaking his head as though explaining the simplicity of two and two to a terminally retarded man. "You're not Michael Landon, man, and every sniffling girl is not Half Pint." His cold, dark eyes took on a dangerous gleam. "She's _Anya_. She's _mine_."

"Did anybody see Addy walk by?" Dukes butted in, pointing at her door.

"Huh?"

"Her door's open." He looked to the hallway, back at the kitchen, waiting for her to step out. "She doesn't leave her door open."

* * *

"Jason?" Adanya rounded another corner, following the voice. It had led her across the yard, into the next building over, and down a few hallways that looked like they belonged in a horror movie, flickering lights and all. "Jason, come out right now." She stopped short of a door, hands on her hips. "I mean it, I'm tired of playing." Her voice took on a high-pitched, childish timbre. A glance in the glass window of the door let her glimpse a vision of braided hair and ribbons, overalls and blue Keds. "We're not playing, Jason, I already took my medicine; I'm supposed to go to sleep now."

"You were playing earlier," An equally childish voice accused, the speaker invisible to her eyes. "You wanted to play with _them_."

"I was not," She argued crossly, looking around for the source of the voice. "If you knew half what you think you did," Her eyes narrowed on the shadows of an open door, the dark room an obvious hiding place. She stepped toward it. "You'd be smarter than Einstein." She walked inside, squinting into the darkness. "Now come out and talk to me like grown ups, Jason, I don't want to play hide and seek right now." She reached around the wall closest to her, feeling for a light switch.

A pair of spindly arms grabbed her from behind, a hand tamping over her mouth instantly. Instinctively, she screamed, clawing at the arms that held her.

"Shh!" The arm around her waist tightened. "I said be quiet!" The figure shook her violently, twisting and lurching, lifting her feet off the floor. Adanya kicked, shrieking against the hand over her mouth, squirming and stretching for leverage, for freedom. She couldn't feel anything nearby to gain leverage with, nothing to pus against. It was like floating in the middle of a murky sea with only a bogeyman to anchor her.

"You stop that!" The deep, resounding voice was familiar, hissing in her ear, reverberating in her mind like a shout. "You stop it right now, or I'll…_oh_." Adanya stiffened when the body behind her froze, something undeniably…_stiff_ prodding the back of her leg. She squeaked behind the hand, arching her back away from whatever was behind her, bucking and twisting, managing to bash the crown of her head into what felt like the jaw of the person behind her. A muffled curse was uttered and Adanya's world went black and cold, blindingly so. She froze, senses trying to compensate for the lack of sight; ocular or otherwise.

_Dark room_…Jason was trying to punish her; Adanya snarled behind the hand, sinking her teeth into a finger and shaking her head viciously, feeling the illusion wash away quickly, as he fought to free himself and keep her trapped at the same time. She worked an arm free enough to bend, still scratching at the pair that held her captive. Her voice, muffled behind the sweaty palm, was undeniably indignant, _"Lemme go!"_

"Just hold still!" A whine of urgency entered the deep, commanding voice, the hand over her mouth growing slick. The voice had grown faint, reedy. "Hold still!" She felt the body tense up behind her, the hand on her jaw going stiff. "Don't move!"

Adanya snarled, low and deep in her throat, the sound of an animal shoved past the breaking point, and jammed her elbow back as hard as she could into Jason's stomach, feeling a satisfying _whoosh_ pass her cheek, the loss of his breath accompanying the other release her motion had triggered, a warm, mineral-smelling fluid seeping through the front of his thin cotton pants. Jason gasped, both in pain and uncertain pleasure, as Adanya growled again and twisted valiantly, trying to free herself of his heavy, clinging arms and the dampness that curdled her insides. His grip tightened on her, clinging, a thin sheen of sweat coating his forehead.

"Just…stay…still," He ground out the words in a low hiss, jerking her a little to make his point clear. "They'll hear you!" He gave her another little jerk, at the same time she twisted her body, still hissing and snarling behind his hand. "You stop fighting me!"

With a short, terrifying _snap_, Adanya went limp. The fight drained out of her limbs, she slumped back against him, boneless and apathetic, eyes wide and blank.

"Sunny?" Her weight was no longer warm and alive; it was cold and heavy, dragging him down to his knees. The position prompted him to lay her, awkwardly, across his lap. "Sunny girly, time to wake up." He poked a finger into the still hollow of her throat. "Sunny?" Another poke to her chest, watching carefully for the slightest rise or fall of her breath. "Wake up," He shook her, ignoring how cool she felt. "C'mon, I'm not mad at you, I won't put you in the dark place, I promise. Wake up." Tears, forbidden, wicked little drops of weakness, rolled down his nose and dripped on her cheek. "I didn't mean it. I promise I won't hurt you, I _promise_. I won't do it again." He shook her again, uselessly. "Wake up."


	11. Chapter 11

"Jason?" Adanya's eyes opened slowly, taking in the fuzzy halos of light. "Jason, are we…" Her voice was low and raspy. "Did you put us in the white room?" She squinted out the light, peering up into a dark, smiling face. "You're not Jason,"

"No miss," The smiling face laughed, gentle hands folding the blankets down from her chin. "I'm Hooper, and it's six in the morning, in case you were wondering. Brought you in here last night,"

"Mornin," She slurred, blinking him into focus. "They call me Anya,"

Hooper was fat and jolly, all smiles and big gentle hands. "Good morning, Miss Winters," He undid the leather straps with the genteel air of a butler shaking out a napkin. "Sleep well, despite the restraints?" He slid his hands, like ham hocks with thick sausage fingers, under her arms and pulled her up into a sitting position easily, his rotund figure belying his strength. "No nightmares last night?"

"My neck hurts." She slumped fluidly, slouching against the pillow and the metal frame headboard.

"Yes, I suppose it would." He held out a cup with small white pills, pills that would fit easily into the half-moons of his manicured nails. He didn't wear gloves. "I've got apricot and orange, which do you prefer?" He didn't wait for a response, picking up a cup of juice from his tray, taking the empty pill cup back.

"Why does my neck hurt?" She swallowed the pills, accepting the cup of apricot juice without complaint. It was cool and sweet; he poured her a second cup from the jug on the little trolley cart parked beside the bed.

"Jason broke it last night," The fat, skilled fingers felt along the sides of her neck. "Right here, it's still a bit tender, isn't it?" He peeled his fingers from her neck quickly, shooting a darting glance over his shoulder, as though anticipating a scolding.

"Not really." The second cup of juice was gone. "He didn't mean it." Adanya leaned back, feeling stronger.

The little cup landed back on his cart, crushed. "No, they never do." Hooper looked wistful, as though he'd heard that line a thousand times. Adanya reached out, her arm shaking with the effort, and grabbed for his hand. Hooper's smile returned, folding creases in his cheeks, his fingers closing over hers.

He held her hand like he'd hold the hand of a small child, his grasp light and unsure, afraid of breaking her. "When they bring your breakfast, drink all the milk." He let go, a frown on his lips. "You need the calcium,"

Adanya nodded mutely, sagging back into the bed, dead to the world before her head hit the mattress. Had she been aware, she would have felt Hooper scooping his hands around her waist and pulling her back down into a comfortable position, head on the pillow, blankets back around her shoulders. She would have felt his hand on her forehead, heard the whispered words in a foreign language she could have placed as Haitian, and watched him hurry away, seen the little cart careen into a closet, and listened to the _slip-slop_ sounds of his slippers as he ran, desperate to hide before someone realized he'd gotten out of his cell.

* * *

_"Sir?" She tapped on the door apprehensively, with her knuckles. "Daddy?" Bridget, cleaning up her messes, had told her very quietly to go to his study. The Irish girl seemed unsettled, but picked up the sodden papers and went about her business silently, plucking strawberry leaves from Adanya's hair as she wiped her hands on a dishtowel and all but ran._

"_Come in, Adanya." The big brass knob felt cold and mean in her palm, unyielding, so she had to twist it hard and shove all her weight against that solid slab of oak door. The study was cold, ashy smelling and sterile, like smoke in the doctor's office_

"_Is something wrong?" Carefully, she held her inky hands behind her back, trying to keep them away from the fat bow tied at the back of her sash. At four, she was often told, she was more mindful of herself and her appearance than most nine-year-olds, and more obedient and well spoken than young debutante ladies. None of that would help her now._

"_Close the door."_

_She nudged it closed with an elbow, the click of the knob thundering and ominous. Her shoes were smutty, her tights were snagged, her dress was wrinkled, pinafore stained with the wild strawberries she found growing along the fence, her fingers stained with ink from the stamping set a woman had given her, part of her stationary kit that came with perfumed paper. She'd never been so ashamed of her appearance before, blood burning hot in her face._

_Malcolm Winters stood behind his desk, walking around it slowly, his dark eyes on his daughter, whose gaze was locked on the floor before her shoes, studying the grain of the polished wood floor. She hated looking around the study, at the photos and framed papers, the medals he kept in boxes, the ashtrays and 'trophies' he had on display on tabletops and shelves. Bridget wasn't allowed to clean this room, but not a spot or mote of dust showed on any tabletop or surface_

"_Adanya," Her gaze lifted minutely. "Is something wrong?"_

_Her lips fell into a pout instantly. "I'm all dirty." Bridget had dressed her that morning, and the only thing that remained neat was her hair, in braids wrapped over her head with red ribbons. Her lower lip trembled becomingly. "I'm sorry." A pair of tears rolled down her cheeks as her gaze fell back to the floor, droplets staining the collar of her play-clothes dress._

_His tone was almost amused. "What were you trying to do?" He reached down and wiped a smudge of dirt from her cheek.  
_

"_I wanted to make a party," She sniffled piteously, not daring to look up at him, even as Malcolm knelt down to her height. "I picked the strawberries and made lemonade and made the papers…" She sniffed again, cringing, hands still behind her back. "And I…" Her inky hands came out. "I spilled, but I…" She trembled, sniffing and sucking in her breath. "I didn't mean to,"_

_"Do you think I'm upset with you for making a mess?" Gently, he stroked a tear away from her velvety cheek. "Adanya?"  
_

"_No," Adanya wailed softly, terror fighting etiquette. "Not about that." Fear won out and she began to fidget.  
_

"_Do you know why I'm upset with you?" His hands, bigger than her whole face it seemed, closed around her shoulders and held her still.  
_

"_Be…beca…because I…" She knew he wanted her to look at him, to stare him in the eye and tell him the truth. "I'm sorry." She sobbed suddenly, her knees giving out, head hanging. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it."_

"_We both know you don't mean that." His voice was stern, cold. "You're sorry because you were caught." His fingers bit into her flesh, the sobbing quieting. He detested the sound of her crying. "You knew what you were doing, and you knew it was wrong. We've been over this before."_

_She lifted her gaze to his pathetically. "Jason showed me the book,"_

_He shook her roughly. "Adanya." Unbearably cold rage went into that single word, three syllables of utmost revulsion that dropped his child to her knees. "I did not ask you how you came into possession of that book. I did not ask you who showed you those things." He hauled her up, her shoes scuffing the polished floor. "You are responsible for your own actions."_

_She hardly understood the depth of his words, let alone her crime. "Yes, sir."_

"_You know what you did is wrong." His fingers dug into her flesh, fine points of blood rising in ten little points around her shoulders. "You know what happens to bad girls, Adanya? Do you know what will happen to you if you continue to do these things?" He gave her another shake. "Answer me,"  
_

"_Yes," Her voice was barely audible, knees shaking. A patch of blood had appeared on her left knee, the skin split open when she fell. It bloomed like a scarlet rose, dripping down her leg. "I'm sorry."_

_"No," He let her go; she collapsed to the floor again bonelessly. "That's not good enough." He opened the door to the closet, just a quarter inch, and looked back at his daughter. "Get up."_

_Adanya struggled to her feet, barely breathing, eyes wide and wet. "Puh-" She felt her heart skip, race, skip, race, skip, dizzyingly. "Puh…puh..." Her pleas came in short pants, her mouth gaping stupidly. She stared into the closet; a dark, gaping maw, lined with razor sharp teeth waiting to swallow her into the pitch-black darkness._

_"Have you forgotten how to walk, Adanya?" Malcolm gestured, irritated and abrupt, for her to come to his side. "Now." Numbly, tripping over her own feet, she made her way to the closet, silent tears rolling down her face, head bowed in defeat. "Do you understand why I have to do this?"_

Not hardly. _"Yes," She lifted her chin enough to look at him, her hand straying to his. "I'm sorry; I'll never, ever do it again. I promise." Her fingers plucked at his cuff, begging for mercy. If she kept her eyes on him, she could pretend the door was closed and the monsters weren't trying to drag her inside._

_His fingers closed over hers, rough and calloused, tipped in thick nails. "When you can behave like a young lady," His grip tightened over her fingers, prying them from his sleeve easily. "I will let you out." His grip became crushing; she yelped when she heard the crackling sounds, one after the other, four sets of bones breaking. Malcolm let go of her crushed fingers, shoving her inside roughly. She hit a shelf, shrieking aloud when a Bowie knife bit into her back, and he closed the door._

* * *

"Adanya!" She woke with a short, sharp gasp for breath.

A man with a ponytail stood over her bed. "Bad dream?"

Mutely, she nodded.

"I'm Doctor Killebrew," He stepped back. "I'll be taking over as your physician for the duration of your stay."The covers flipped up from the side of the bed, revealing the leather straps meant for her wrists. "Who undid the restraints on this bed?" Killebrew leaned over her, his clever eyes guarded behind the round lenses of his glasses. "Did someone undo these straps for you?" His eyes narrowed, hawkish. "Did Jason do this?" She noticed a bandage wrapped around his left index finger. Killebrew saw her stare and hid his hand carefully, adjusting his hold on the clipboard.

Adanya shrugged, blinking innocently. "I've been asleep, I guess. I don't remember anything since last night when I was getting ready for bed." She sat up, frowning at the needle taped to the back of her hand, the IV dripping a clear liquid into her veins. She hadn't noticed it earlier.

Killebrew sighed, pulling up a stool. "How are you feeling?" His white lab coat was starched, pristine, but a small coffee stain had been neglected on the sleeve. He laid a large, warm palm on her forehead, signaling her to open her eyes wide. "Reactive to training." He looked down on her; wide-eyed and looking up at him expectantly. "You have very pretty eyes." He sat, making notes on his clipboard; _'reacts positively to infancy training; remains compliant'_

Someone's hand, a huge palm smelling strongly of iodine, flattened on her forehead as two others pried her eyes open, taping her eyelids in place. "Maybe it'd be easier to just cut the fuckers off," A rough voice commented, as drops of blue fluid were put in both eyes, the infant screaming and flailing thin limbs, twisting her frail body. "Instead of teaching her to keep her damn eyes open,"

Adanya pasted a charming, winsome expression on her face. "Do all the doctors have clipboards?" She sat up taller, the blanket rumpling at her waist.

"No, this is strictly for notes," He watched her, head tilted slightly, as though listening to a half-remembered tune. "Does it hurt, when you're injured like this?" He pointed at her neck with his pen. "You do know Jason Stryker broke your neck last night, correct?"

"He didn't mean it," She shook her head bashfully. "It was an accident is all,"

"Do you die, or is it more like a comatose state, when things like that happen?" Killebrew's pen was poised over the clipboard, his beady eyes sharp and focused. "Do you have an actively conscious mind, or do you feel more like you're asleep and dreaming?"

"Yes," She half nodded, hissing when her hand twitched and the needle moved. "I remember things, when it happens. It's like my body shuts off for a while, but my brain keeps going. I never actually died, per se, my brain never shut down, that I can remember."

"What do you remember?" He pulled the needle out of her hand slickly, without drawing so much as a whimper from the girl, and signaled for someone to take care of it.

"Lots of things," Her voice felt stronger than her body. "I remember why Daddy had to take me to a doctor before I stayed on with Stryker and his wife, and I remember why he had my teeth pulled, and I remember listening to language records while I slept, so I could learn faster." She sucked in a deep breath and went on, ignoring Killebrew's ecstatic scribbling. "And learning how to dance with a man called Noah Nelson; he let me stand on the tops of his shoes and he spun me around to _A Summer Place_," She glanced up at him, wincing back against the pillow under the intensity of his stare. "And I remember things that aren't so happy."

Killebrew looked up, expectant. "Why did he take you to a doctor? Our last listed doctor visit for you was to have your broken arm set,"

"I had an operation," A rush of blood warmed her face. "Behavioral correction," Climbing up with the rush of heat came a rush of restoration, her throat tingling as everything filled out, the healing process almost complete. A slow burn flashed up into the tingle, spreading like oil in a hot pan, soothing the ache as it regenerated the ruined tissue.

Killebrew stared. "That's not in your files," He glanced at his hand. "Your files are hopelessly incomplete, I'm thinking."

The warmth subsided slowly, slinking down quietly. "A lot of things aren't in my files," Adanya demurred, barely lifting her eyes. She leaned forward slightly, turning her eyes up with the barest hint of question, the Search clicking on in her head, coloring him pink. "Are you going to make me stay in bed all day," She blinked, watching his pen fall to the floor. "Or are you going to let me get dressed and go back to my room?"

Killebrew blinked, shaking his head as though dazed. "Yes, of course, you should get dressed and eat something," He stood, mumbling, clipboard in hand. "Frost, get the Winters girl some clothing!"

* * *

Lyman had been waiting in the hall to walk her back to her room. Adanya was dressed, sans underwear, in cotton scrubs, loose enough to hide her curves, leaving her with a rather blocky silhouette. After spending the night in the paper gown, the scrubs were heavenly, although she wasn't sure where her own clothing has disappeared to. One hand was on Lyman's arm, the other clutching the waist of the pants. They hung loosely from her hips, the drawstring pulled as tight as it could go, tied in a double knot. The taste of the stale, warm water they'd given her to take another round of pills was still wet on her lips.

"I didn't need an escort, Lyman, really." She'd been leaning on him the entire time, waiting for the moment something would crackle and give in her knee, or her limp, bony hips would cease to hold up her torso. Regeneration was a bitch.

"S'okay," He let go of her arm, standing in the doorway. "I wanted to walk you," He fidgeted awkwardly. "So…you need anything else?"

"No," She watched him do an abrupt about-face and walk away. Adanya made it three steps into the common room when Logan cleared his throat, loudly.

"Morning," Adanya pretended not to see him eyeballing her over the top of the newspaper.

Jimmy was perusing the newspaper. "Where'd you go last night?"

"I heard voices," Wade slouched by in a sulk, not looking at her. "And I followed them."

"And?" He threw over his shoulder, his own pajama bottoms riding dangerously low on his narrow hips. "Find your bliss?"

"It was Jason," She slid onto the couch silently, scanning the ruffled front page of the newspaper. Jimmy looked at her from over the top, like her father used to when she was little, and she smiled.

"And?" Wade's voice was snippy, hands cupped around a coffee mug. "Jason's your buddy, huh?"

Adanya picked strands of hair off her scrubs. "He broke my neck,"

"Ex-squeeze me?" Wade stared; the paper fell to Jimmy's lap. "Say that one more time,"

"Jason broke my neck last night," Adanya repeated, standing, the scrub pants drooped. She clutched at them with both hands, heading for her room. "And I woke up this morning in the sick ward," She walked around Victor, who grunted at her. "And I have a new doctor," She disappeared into her bedroom, the lock clicking quietly as the pants fell around her ankles. Adanya walked over to her dresser and picked up her hand mirror, holding it down at her side, just barely turning it so she could see herself, her legs.

Handprints on the insides of her thighs; too big for Jason and too small for Hooper. Bruises; a wide palm and slender fingers, a smudge of brownish, dried blood, crusty and flaking off, up higher, nearer to the junction of leg and pelvis.

"Stupid," She set the mirror down, licking her thumb and wiping the smudge off. Levity sprang up from her belly, unexpectedly. "Stupid people." She chuckled to herself, dark and breathy, reaching for a pair of panties from the top drawer of her dresser. She stepped into her underwear, tugging them up her legs, still giggling to herself. By the time she finished dressing, her laughter had reached a healthy crescendo.

She stifled it slightly, as she walked out of her room in jeans and a tee shirt, with a cardigan on top, snickering into her hands as she walked to the table. "Hi Chris," He stood in his pajamas, pouring milk over his cereal. "Could you pour me a glass of that?" She fell into a chair, still giggling behind her hand.

Wade was staring at the back of her head, like she'd finally gone crazy. "What's so funny, Addy?" Chris poured her a glass of milk, slid it across the table.

She picked up the cup. "Teeth,"


	12. Chapter 12

"We'll have to start her on a restricted diet immediately, to calm her mood swings." Reynolds frowned as he looked over the charted data. "Diet is everything; we can control field performance, her moods, her…_what_?" He shot an annoyed look at Frost. "What now, Carol?"

"You can't do it." Frost shook her head. "She's impossible to chart."

"Excuse me?" Several heads swung around at his tone.

"It's impossible to tailor a nutrition plan to her, she's constantly in a state of flux." Frost explained coldly, her eyes like chips of ice. "You can't possibly foresee what she'll need versus what she won't based on a couple moments of skimming her files. And if you grip her any tighter, she'll suffocate and die."

Reynolds's cocked a brow disinterestedly. "What do you propose we do, Carol?"

Frost sighed. "Let her eat what she wants, as much and as often as she wants."

"Are you insane?" Doctor Malcolm, the sleep analyst, gaped at her. "She'll be impossible to follow if we give her that freedom,"

"She needs a certain percentage of body fat in order to menstruate," Frost fiddled with her files, sorting through paperwork without purpose, to keep her hands from wrapping around someone's throat. "Or did that fact escape you? Her power is kinetic; she's constantly using up the energy in her body, denying her the ability to eat as she pleases is only going to be harmful. She's already too thin as it is; she's draining herself to feed her mutation. If she can't eat, she can't perform. And if she can't perform, all of this is for nothing."

"She's like a child!" Reynolds whined. "She binges on candy and junk, she's ten times as bad as Wilson!" A couple other men in white coats snickered behind their hands. "Dukes as well!" Reynolds added, glaring daggers all around. "The three of them could easily eat themselves to death if left to their own devices,"

"Wilson has an oral fixation," Another argued, albeit weakly. "Dukes eats for comfort," Reynolds stared him down, daring him to continue. "Maybe the Winters girl just likes candy,"

"Comfort food." Frost picked up the stack of files and slammed them down in front of Reynolds. "You don't have children, do you? Sweets and candy are instant gratification. It makes her feel good, and therefore she does good. We were given instruction to monitor her physical capabilities, not her emotional shortcomings. Childish or not, she is here." Her voice shook, quavering over the word _child_. "Perhaps _you_ need to reassess your choices."

"Brought her in today, huh?" Vanessa appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, and flipped her ponytail back over her shoulder.

Carol blanched. "I don't know what you're talking about,"

"Emma," Vanessa smirked. "Blonde hair, big eyes, about this tall? Took her from school, huh? Saw her blazer. _Swank_," Private school, elite and upper class if the crest on her blazer pocket was any indication. Explained why Frost, weak thing she was, had taken the position. "Traded her out for the Winters girl,"

Carol's eyes blazed. "She is _nothing_ like Emma," Emma wasn't even a mutant; the signs were there and beginning to play out, but there was no documented manifestation, no cause for alarm.

"Smart move, really; Emma wouldn't last very long at all." Vanessa slid her reading glasses on. "Did Jason really break her neck?"

"Yep," Reynolds slid a stack of hastily developed photos over her way. "You can see it here, but she's healed." Vanessa peered closely at the black and white image, at the obvious ring of bruises and chunky look of the flesh. "If you'd weighed her then, and weighed her again when she woke up, you'd see the difference." He tossed a pointed look at Frost. "Which is why we need to monitor her nutritionally, to ensure she gets what she needs."

Vanessa's brows lifted. "She loses weight using her mutation?" She scoffed. "Lucky bitch,"

"Takes a lot of energy, burns a lot of calories." Dr. Malcolm explained snidely, tossing a look at Reynolds. "Dr. Reynolds is just too stubborn to understand that we cannot anticipate her nutritional needs like we can with Wilson," He smirked, cocky. "Her sleep patterns, however, are quite another story entirely. She sleeps more than Wilson, almost hibernating, and her patterns hardly fluxuate at all." He smirked again. "She's more like Creed and Logan in that respect, but on a set schedule. Her father has her on a pharmaceutical regime; she's been medicating herself since she could recall taking her own pills. She rises and falls under the influence of those drugs, everything between is another beast entirely."

Vanessa shrugged, poking around the stacks of paperwork. "Has anyone gotten in contact with Malcolm Winters yet? There's more to her records than what we have." She frowned, pushing aside a colleague's coffee cup. "We tried pulling his, but some liberal pantywaist pulled rank on us. We don't even have a list of what she takes daily, and I know she's taking more than that schmuck told us about. This girl has half a pharmacy stashed in her bedroom, not to mention the street drugs"

"She's glorious on cocaine!"

Frost bristled. "Excuse me, but I was under the impression that she was my patient and therefore under my care,"

"Well you've been usurped," Vanessa shrugged. "You lost perspective, Carol, now she and Wilson belong to Killebrew. _Momentary indiscretion_," She wagged a finger at Carol mockingly. "You treated her like a person instead of the project. You _comforted_ her,"

Frost paled. "Killebrew?"

"Yep," Vanessa pushed her glasses up her nose. "They're starting her early, guess they're running out of fresh meat," She shrugged. "She oughta be up and about in no time; Killebrew's got big plans for her." She smirked a little. "_Big_, big plans. Hope she likes needles."

"Wade can't…" Frost breathed a sigh of relief. "He's sterile; I oversaw the vasectomy myself."

"Oh yes he can," Vanessa smirked. "You know the thing about her that's so _incredible_, it's not that she can adapt and evolve at the speed of thought, it's that her mutation is _constantly running_. She's a radiant proximity mutant; anyone around her gets hit with her powers, and therefore anything physically wrong with their body, say oh, a damaged vas deferens, is repaired and regenerated. Good as new." Vanessa gave a soft little titter of laughter; Reynolds paled. "They have old film reels of her in action; there's one where she's sitting on a soldier's lap, regrowing his arm. Another where she's walking on broken glass, hardly bleeding." Vanessa's lips curled slightly. "They have a few reels for all the survivors, especially the ones that were fun to watch." Her pearly white teeth glittered, sharp and shark like. "Even better when it's one-on-one attention. You know, I bet if we ran a blood panel on Wilson we wouldn't even find a _trace_ of…well, _anything_. Not even the syphilis he got from that prostitute in Bangkok."

"She's not about to…" Carol fell into a chair, knees shaking, almost knocking together. Several of the other white coats looked faint, ready to vomit, clutching their coffee cups ands paperwork like religion. It was one thing to oversee a project, to coordinate, but another entirely to spill it all out about a young woman without the faintest idea of her fate.

"Oh yes she will," Vanessa nodded. "Wilson's an attractive young man, and he's taken an interest in her. Given the _tragic_ circumstances surrounding the death of her fiancée, and what with Jason Stryker lurking around trying to get her attention again, I'd say Wilson ought to have her in bed within a week of showing her a little affection. He'll make her feel safe and protected; in turn he'll feel worthy and important. _Voila_." She waved a hand. "Instant karma, or what have you. She's too easy."

"And then what," Carol scathed. "There's no guarantee she'll conceive, she may have difficulties, considering her _upbringing_, her medical history."

"No," Vanessa shook her head. "You see Carol, what her mind wants and what her body wants are two different things." She giggled softly, shaking her head. "She's made for this, you know, it's what she was born for. _Breeding_." Vanessa tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "She was supposed to start years ago, but her father had to throw his little tantrum. Funny, isn't it, how they always seem to come creeping back to where they belong?"

"Oh God." Carol slumped over her temporary desk, head on her arms. "God help her," She buried her face, biting down hard on her wrist, keeping her silence in the sobering, solemn thought. _At least it's not Emma. It's not Emma. Not Emma, not Kayla; my girls are safe._

Vanessa snorted. "Not fucking likely."

* * *

"Okay," Chris shook his head. "Teeth are funny now." He stirred his cereal absently. "So…" He looked up over his spoon. "Um, that guy broke your neck? Like really broke your neck?"

Adanya didn't answer; she was gazing dreamily at the ceiling, her fingertips rubbing the rim of her empty cup, lips moving soundlessly.

Mumbling?

Nope, she was singing again, under her breath.

"Addy?" Chris threw a Cheerio at her forehead, hitting her square between the eyes. Adanya startled, jolted from her daydream, and looked at him. "What?"

"You okay?" He stirred his cereal absently, watching her. "One minute you're all giggles and the next you're quiet," He looked paler than usual, his ears seeming to stick out further. "You're going weird again,"

Adanya shrugged, feeling the last traces of tenderness in her neck subsiding. "I think I wanna read a book," She set the empty glass on the table and stood, ambling back to her bedroom as though it was all just another normal morning.

"She seems better," Fred muttered offhandedly, as he headed for the hallway. "Least she ain't screaming,"

"Wait up," Wraith jammed his hat on and trotted after Dukes. "Let's hit the ring, man, I'm bored."

Bradley dumped his cereal in the sink, looking over his shoulder as Wade strode across their living room to Adanya's door. "Leave her alone, she's had a rough night," He turned around, the tension in the air almost palpable. "Don't start her up again,"

"Maybe I wanna win that bet," Wade threw over his shoulder. "Or maybe I just wanna see how she's doing,"

"Fuck," Bradley looked around the empty rooms. "Fuck, man," He stared at the floor, running down a list in his head. He could stay, he could walk in there and make small talk with Adanya and keep Wade out of her panties for another couple hours. He could walk away; pretend he didn't know why she was upset. He could be a hero. He could be a villain. He could be an innocent bystander.

Bradley sighed, practically running from the room as Wade smirked at him knowingly, lingering outside Adanya's door to ensure everyone was gone before he entered.

The door popped open; Adanya didn't look up. "Hey," Wade let himself in, closing the door behind him. "The next time you decide to sneak by all of us, you really should cough or clear your throat or something; it's fucking rude to creep by and not say hello to your buds." He cocked his head to the left to peer at her book. "What's that trash?"

Adanya looked up from her book, twisting a lock of hair around her finger as she read. "Huh?" She smoothed back her headband absently, tucking the ends behind her ears.

"_Pride and Prejudice_," Wade scrunched his nose at the paperback. "How many times have you read this?" The pages were yellow and dog-eared, ripped along corners, the cover was held together with strips of tape, the spine cracked. He took from her easily, flopping down on her bed as though he owned it.

Adanya wrinkled her nose at the intrusion, but scooted back to put space between them. "A few," She grabbed for the book. "Gimme!"

"Anya," Wade lifted an eyebrow, holding the book just beyond her reach. "How many times? A few…"

"Dozen," She amended, still reaching. "Gimme,"

"We need to get you a new book. I'm thinking, _The Joy of Sex_," Adanya caught his wrist, weaseling her book back. "The Marquis de Sade,"

"I like my book," She tucked it under her pillow possessively. "I feel I have a deep and passionate understanding of Mr. Darcy,"

Wade grinned back at her. "Well in that case, I have a deep and passionate understanding of Miss December, but I've been known to flip through other months," Wade made a face, as though considering all his options. "The tits all look the same, but the faces change. I've still got that calendar Marilyn Monroe posed for, that is fucking _classic_. Never get tired of her."

"Such a pig," Adanya rolled her eyes.

"Card-carrying member," Wade smirked at her as Adanya rolled her eyes again, wriggling back against her pillow. "Never denied it." He caught her hand and held it flat against his own, comparing them idly. Tan and pale, soft and calloused. "You know, I'm not circumcised." His tone was casual, as though announcing he wanted Chinese for dinner.

Adanya blushed, looking away. "Good to know, I think,"

"Thought I'd just throw it out there," He let go of her hand and tucking his hands behind his head, relaxing. "I like to see you blush."

Adanya put a hand to her cheek, confirming that the flush of heat she knew was there was warm as ever, and mercifully not a fever. "This is slightly less awkward than I imagined." There wasn't much room to move, unless it was her going on top, or vice versa, but the single bed was not made for two bodies. She flattened herself to the wall. "What do you want anyway?"

"You imagined me in bed with you?" Wade cocked an eyebrow at her, grinning as she blushed pinker. "Miss Winters, you _naughty_ girl."

She blushed a shade darker. "Shut up, Wade,"

"Was I good? Why am I asking, of course I was. I was _fantastic_," Wade laughed freely, as she looked uncomfortable. "You weren't too bad either," Wade nudged her shoulder with his, earning himself a shy little smile. "It's okay though, I can be intimidating."

"Your mouth doesn't stop, does it?"

"Most women cherish that in a man," He waggled his eyebrows at her. "My tongue rarely gets tired." He thought about mentioning his oral skills, but the look on her face made him quiet.

"You know, I like you better when we're alone," Mr. Darcy, in the collection of her mind, got shoved back into the stacks, while a shade of James Dean came forward, giving his approval of Wade Winston Wilson in all his wicked glory.

"Oh really?"

"Yes, you're much less of a pig." Adanya grinned despite herself. "Your libido becomes… more subtle. We actually talk to each other, it's not _all_ sex." She relaxed off the wall.

"I like you better this way, too," He turned on his side, looking her over. "I like you in bed, all relaxed and snuggly. Better if you were naked,"

Adanya ignored the comment. "Why?"

"Because when you smile, it looks real." As though prompted, she smiled for him. "You're not putting on a show for anyone, you're really Anya," He stared at her a moment, reaching across the miniscule gap between them, to smooth back a stray curl that had escaped her headband. "You're Anya." His hand froze, an inch from her cheek. "_Anya_." Finally, _finally_, the girl matched the moniker.

"And you're Wade," She nodded. "I get it, you don't like my name. You've never liked my name,"

"No, no, no," He sat up, staring at her pointedly. "You're…"

Adanya sat up, suddenly nervous. "I'm what?"

"You're… too calm." He leaned in, studying her eyes. "You're like…'ancient Chinese secret' calm."

"I try," Her nose twitched. "But it's not really a secret,"

He poked her forehead, peering at her closely. "Wade!" She batted at his hands as he felt over her head, scrunching her nose at him.

"Are you sure they didn't give you a lobotomy or something?" He looked at her eyes again, then felt over her forehead. "Your breath doesn't smell like Juicy Fruit," She pulled away from him, flopping back down and pulling her blanket up to her chin. "Anya?"

She peeked up at him owlishly. "What are you going on about?" She held the blanket up to her nose. "You can't come in here, either, not until you tell me."

"You." He relaxed, leaning back on his arm. "You're…" His free hand made random circling motions, as he searched for the right word. "_Normal_."

"Oh," She pulled her blanket back down around her waist. "_Oh!_" Wade smirked, lying back down. "It's just so ordinary for me, after a while I don't think about it as much." Anya propped herself up on an elbow, turning on her side. "When I 'died' last night, when Jason snapped my neck, my body shut down for a while, to fix the damage." Parts of her neck were still poke-tender, but everything felt normal. "And my mind went dreamy."

"Dreamy?"

"I forget the bad stuff for a while," A nervous smile came to her face. "Um, it's almost like a…reset button. When I'm out, my head sorts through all the stuff up there, and the not so important things get filed away. Unfortunately, it's kinda like long-term memory loss, until the right thing comes along and pops open the banks," She rolled her eyes and sighed, glad for the reprieve and scared for the days her mind splintered. "It keeps me in the here and now. I can remember all the important stuff, but most of the details are all crammed into a mind-closet someplace. Like when I came here the first night, I was okay, but then I spooked about being back around the antiseptic, the smell of the building…stuff just kinda," Her nose twitched. "Came out."

"Like what?"

"Like I can remember living in a town called Chesapeake, but I don't really remember the people there." Wade's eyebrows lifted; no more Marshall. "I remember Sweden and Scotland and Finland, but I couldn't tell you what I was doing there. Kansas, California, Mississippi…it's all a blur of smells and tastes and sounds, but no real definition. The only things that stay are…Pangea," The plates could shift and slide, the terrain would change, the mountains would streak up into the clouds and cracks would rip open to the core of her being…the important things continued.

"Why not?"

"Because it's not…it won't…it's…it's not important," _Important_, it seemed, was getting him to stay in her bed. "Not like remembering what happened at the doctor's office, or what Susie McGraw taught me at summer camp, or what it felt like to kiss you on the dock," She felt the flush of warmth creeping up her neck, even though Wade was kind enough to not pay attention.

"So, 'normal' Anya," He grinned at her, and tested the waters of a dreamy mind. "You ever think about sex?"

She wrinkled her nose. "Do you ever _not_think about sex?"

"Anya!" Wade laid a hand on his throat dramatically. "I'm hurt. There's plenty other things I think about." He turned on his side again, studying her. "So do you?"

"Sometimes I think about things like that," She swung her gaze over to him. "But I always get punished." Her mouth turned down in a pout. "He left me in the closet for a week once, when I kissed a boy at Sunday school." _Love thy neighbor_, so long as you stay far away from him. Some memories refused to be put away.

"Oh," Wade's nose crinkled. "Guess that puts a damper on things,"

"Maybe just a little," Adanya admitted softly. "But I still think about it, sometimes. I just never know when the other shoe's going to drop,"

"I won't attack you," He shifted, lying back, aligning his body to hers. "Unless you're into that sort of thing."

"You're a prince." Adanya countered dryly, rolling her eyes.

"You don't seem like you are," Wade continued, lacing his hands together and tucking them behind his head. "At least right away, anyhow. You seem like you'd need some warm-up time, a little kinky-lite first. Maybe spank you with a hairbrush, a blindfold, maybe tie you to the bed and lick stuff off your..." Wade trailed off quietly. "You've got that look again."

"Sometimes I think I'm finally seeing you, not the facade you put up to hide behind, but you as a real person," She wrinkled her nose. "And then you go and blow it,"

"Pot and kettle, _daahling_,"

Adanya turned on her side, looking down at him seriously. "Would you even know what to do with me if you weren't fronting all that swagger?"

Wade pretended to think seriously about it. "Am I dealing with nice, normal Anya or bat-shit crazy Anya?"

"Nice Anya," She granted with a smirk. "Are you nice Wade, or card-carrying pig Wade?"

"Nice Wade," He smirked in kind. "No audience, no swords, no blatant sexual overtones." She snickered, unladylike, behind her hand. "I'll be all sweet and gentle, just for you." He nudged her shoulder with his. "Push you down on the playground and yank your pigtails too,"

"I'm sure," She buried her face in the pillow and giggled at the sheer strangeness of the moment.

"Hey," Anya looked up and Wade caught her.

There are fourteen kinds of kisses described in the _Kama Sutra_, and Wade Wilson was an expert at them all, at all things oral for that matter.

Barely touching her, cradling her face with his fingertips, he kissed her softly, a gentle announcement; _'Hey, I'm here and I like you, so don't let me fuck this up too soon, 'kay? Thanks bunches,'_

Wade let her go, still holding her still, and smirked. "Told you so," She was shivering as though she'd stuck her finger in an outlet, an electric current zapping every nerve and cell in her body. Anya's eyes opened slowly, wide and terrified.

"Wow," In half a breath she collapsed against him limply.

The night before, less than twenty hours ago at most, Wade Wilson had imagined how easy it would be to just fuck her. Plain and simple, with little fanfare, and win the bet before any of them had the chance to chuckle about it. Sure, she'd be a little pissed off about it, sure, she'd probably stop talking to him, she might even head off to the big leagues and report it all to Stryker and the other goons in charge. And yeah, they might just send her back home to her shitty apartment and her fat roommate and the crack dealers downstairs, and eventually her daddy would come along and rescue her from whatever nightmare she dreamed herself into. The memory of her would lose definition over time; she'd join the long line of women he'd bedded, just another faceless body.

That afternoon as he lay in her bed, holding the trembling pixie in his arms, waiting patiently for her to adjust, he couldn't imagine living in a world where he actively wanted to hurt her.

* * *

Dusk was beginning to settle over them like a soft blanket, shrouding the trees. The moon was rising slowly, full and soft, over the hills. "Damn good night for the drive-in," Anya commented, pointing skyward. "Think we can skip the mission and head into town?"

"Doubt it," Bradley smiled at her shyly and offered his arm. "But I can escort you to the plane,"

"Why thank you, kind sir," Anya scooped her arm through his. They walked together across base. "So, is it normal that we get these random assignments without much prep time?"

"Not really," He kicked a pebble as they passed the med wing. "Mostly Stryker sends Wade or Victor out alone on a job, sometimes we go in twos or threes, but normally not a full team unless it's risky," He let go of her arm, suddenly embarrassed. "They only need me to fly,"

Anya shrugged. "They only need me to make the rest of you look like big manly men,"

"Something like that," Bradley sidestepped her suddenly and broke into a sprint, darting ahead to the plane, ducking inside like a frightened animal.

Wade lingered outside the plane, watching Anya approach. "You got any deranged ex-lovers in Nebraska?"

"No," Dukes nudged her shoulder as he passed, earning a grin.

"So no more of this disappearing into the night and turning up with a dead guy?" Wade caught the words as they left his mouth. _She doesn't _remember_ him, dumb ass, don't bring it up again!_

Anya scrunched her nose in confusion. "No," She swept her hair up into a ponytail, passing him. Inside the cabin the air was deliciously and oddly cool, free of the usual tension and thickness of body heat. Anya sat down, crossed her legs out of habit, and ignored the way Victor was leering at her.

"Good." Wade plopped down on the bench seat across from her. "Throws off my groove," She rolled her eyes. "You know, it's like when somebody walks in while you're in mid-fuck, totally throws off your rhythm,"

"La, la, la, can't hear you," Anya sang, holding her hands over her ears.

Bradley snickered, earning a cold look from Stryker as the plane took off. "Don't encourage them, Bradley," Stryker dropped his gaze to the dossier on his lap. "Adanya?" Quickly he scanned the list of items he wanted, ranging from documents to weapons. Dragging out the team for a mission of what was little more than petty theft seemed a bit excessive, even to him, but it was amusing to see how they worked together. "Adanya?" He looked up; she was absorbed in reading a book she'd smuggled in with her things. "Adanya!"

Wade, smirking, kicked her shin. "Hey Anya, _el jefe_wants you,"

"What?"

"Three times," He tossed the black folder at her. "I said your name no less than three times. That book cannot possibly be so interesting that you completely forgot the sound of your own name,"

"It's a medical book," She dog-eared the page and set it between her feet. "Carol wants me to start helping her," She leafed through the dossier, head tilted to the right as she perused. "This guy's not even a mutant, why do we all have to go?" She looked over at Stryker, now monitoring the control panels, speaking to North in an undertone.

Absently, Wraith reached down the hand not holding his gun and adjusted himself through his pants.

"Oh my God!" Anya flushed pink, the dossier falling from her lap.

"What?" The plane swerved to the right as Bradley turned his head to look at her; Logan lurched forward over his knees with a groan. North's hand shot out and cracked Bradley in the back of the head; the plane righted itself smoothly.

"That!" Anya pointed at Wraith. "All this time, and he just…" She fumbled for words. "You've never done that in front of me before!" Wraith grinned at her.

"Oh," Wade rolled his eyes, retrieving the dossier. He skimmed it, looked bored, and chucked it back at Stryker. "Let's play a game." Beside him, Logan continued to bitch and moan about flying. "How old were you when you first kissed a boy?"

"Um, like three or four?" Anya shrugged. "How old were you when you first started looking at girls?"

"Six." Wraith grinned and tipped his head back, settling his hat over his eyes. "I saw the neighbor changing," Wade held his hands out in front of his chest. "Stacked,"

"Pig," Anya flashed him a chastising smile.

"How old were you when you had your first date?" Down the aisle, Victor smirked to himself and shifted his gaze to watch the show.

A shadow crossed Anya's face. "Thirteen." A shiver ran through her insides, but nothing happened. Neither a spark nor a flicker in the memory vaults, even while the sensation curdled her innards and spoiled the burgeoning rush of adrenaline that Wade had the uncanny knack of encouraging. "How old were you when you lost your virginity?" Across the way, Dukes cracked a smile.

Wade grinned like a fox, watching her face carefully. "Twelve,"

"You were not, either!" Anya's eyes were wide, albeit unbelieving.

"Was so," Wade leaned back, watching her trying to calculate the probability.

"To who?" From the pilot seat, Bradley choked on his laughter.

"That's a whom," Wade corrected. "And her name was Mary."

Anya rolled the information around in her head. "How old was she?"

"Thirty-four."

_"Jesus!"_ Anya gasped loudly, then leaned in closer. "Was she a hooker?"

"No, she lived down the street from us," He grinned as Wraith pretended to gag. "I used to do yard work for her," Another loud faux gag from Wraith, followed up by a loudly coughed '_bullshit_' from Dukes. "Hell of a woman," Anya's nose scrunched as she considered this. "Have you _ever_ touched yourself?" Wade trailed his inquiry with a grin, waiting for her to blush and squirm. The cabin fell silent.

Another queer little shadow crossed her face, like storm clouds skating over the warm summer sky. "Once." A deep and sickly feeling rose from her belly, coiling around her heart and squeezing hard enough to wring every last drop of blood from the organ, doubled in dead, parasitic weight when Anya realized she had no idea why. "Just once," A flash of pain, scalding hot and relentless, burst between her thighs and stole the breath from her lungs.

"You okay?" Wade snapped his fingers in front of her eyes, less than in inch from her nose. "Anya?"

"Yeah," She nodded, head swimming. "I'm fine, why?" Her hands, twisting on her lap, were cool and beginning to feel sweaty.

"You blanked out on me," He sat back, still watching her. "And you never asked the next question,"

She blinked, brow furrowing. "What question?"

* * *

"How do we get inside?" Wade asked, palms already beginning to sweat under his gloves, itching and ready for a fight. Anya tipped her head back and looked up at the two-story house, modern and humble despite the wealth of the neighborhood.

"Scale the wall, drop in through the sunroof," Stryker ordered, directing his words at Victor. "Clear a path, and..."

"The door might work," Anya offered, smirking, brushing past Logan to get to it. "Because sometimes the best approach," She turned the knob. "Is the simplest." The door swung open with little resistance. Anya stepped back, eyes wide and mouth hanging open.

"Well," Bradley smiled. "That was a neat trick. What's the encore, Addy?"

"That was too easy," Anya stepped inside, cautiously surveying the room for boobytraps. "I mean, if you've got something worth stealing, shouldn't you try and protect it?" The others crowded in behind her, weapons at the ready.

Logan stiffened. "You hear that?" Soft steps in the hall, something padding along slowly. "Sounds like…" A pair of stout black Dobermans came into the doorframe, teeth bared.

"Puppies!" Anya squealed, clapping her hands together like a child. "How cute!"

"Guard dogs," Wade scoffed, sheathing his swords. "How original," He twisted around, looking at the walls hopefully. "Think maybe he's got some secret trapdoor bullshit going on?"

"There's only two," Victor looked bored. "The fuck am I gonna do with two dogs?"

Logan threw him a grin. "Have a snack?"

At the word snack, the dogs attacked. "Shit!" The bigger dog jumped on Wade's back, the smaller taking mouthfuls out of Logan's legs. Dukes grabbed Anya and Bradley by the arms, hauling them back out of harm's way as North and Stryker made themselves scarce, flattening against the far walls, yelling. Wraith snorted a riff of laughter, watching the animals attack the pair.

Logan threw the smaller dog away, swearing violently, streams of blood and saliva roping from his legs to the floor as his flesh healed over. The smaller dog launched itself at Wade, bloody spittle dripping from his jaws onto Wade's shirt as he bore down on his prey, the human pinned between the two canines.

"Lemme go!" Anya twisted against Duke's grip, freeing her arm. _"Hey!"_The dogs backed off Wade, turning around to stare at Anya like a master. "You two, sit down!" The dogs sat instantly, looking to her obediently. "Wade, you okay?" She threw Dukes a dirty look. "Nice helping, guys, good hustle on the teamwork,"

"Shit fuck balls," Wade picked himself up and brushed dusty paw prints off his shirt.

"Come here, boy," Anya knelt, clapping her hands together. The pair ran to her instantly, bounding across the stretch of floor like pups. "You're so pretty," She caught one dog by the collar, before he could plant his paws on her shoulders, and ruffled his fur. "Who's a sweet little baby?" Anya cooed, stroking the dog's ears. "Who's a pretty boy? You're a pretty baby," The dog flopped against her legs, tongue lolling as he panted happily, baring his belly. "You're just so cute!" Anya squeaked when the other dog poked his muzzle at the back of her neck, demanding attention. "Hey, you," She twisted to lavish attention on the other dog, petting both and cooing as though speaking to newborns.

"Is she…_baby-talking_ to that Doberman?" Wade watched her handle the dogs with a mixture of admiration and disgust; ruthless, bloodthirsty canines soothed by a high-pitched voice and a belly rub.

_Pa-the-tic_.

"Yep," Dukes shook his head, a smirk playing on his lips. "Girl's got the magic touch,"

"The thing that just tried to rip my face off?" Wade reiterated faintly, still feeling the hot slobber dripping on his cheek, the carrion breath on his eyelashes. Superficial lacerations ran the length of his forearms, scrapes and semi-deep punctures over his pack, the musty dirt smell of paws clinging to his flesh.

"Uh-huh," Wraith tipped his hat back, grinning.

"Anya!" She turned her head, looking at him placidly. "What the fuck?"

"They're so sweet," The dogs lay over her lap, docile as dozing kittens.

"That thing just tried to eat me!" He pointed at the larger of the two; the dog shifted his eyes lazily.

"Wade," Anya rolled her eyes and got up, the dogs flanking her on either side. "Don't be such a weenie. They didn't want to eat you, they wanted to rip your throat out." She strolled past him casually, still trailed by the dogs. Her voice was still high and girlishly sweet as she spoke. "Where's your master, huh? Where's the stupid little fat man I'm looking for?" The larger dog barked a response; someone shouted from the other end of the house.

"How could I be so stupid," Wade sneered at the back of her head. "They just wanted to maim me," He made to catch the end of her ponytail and yank it, but the smaller Doberman growled menacingly from his hip.

"Adanya," Stryker pulled her aside. "I want you to run interference; Wade and Bradley are going to jam communications coming in and out," She nodded, absently touching the top of a Doberman's head with her fingertips. "The others are going to help me find what we came for," He scowled at her. "And for God's sake, leave the damn dogs alone,"

"Okay guys," Anya knelt down to address the dogs as though speaking to humans. "I want you," She held their muzzles gently. "To run along and rip apart anyone unfriendly in your path, okay?" She kissed one between the eyes and then the other. "Go," Anya let go; the dogs padded away.

"Jesus," Logan muttered, rolling his eyes and looking disgusted.

"Need any more interference?" Anya smiled cheekily.

"Adanya," Stryker all but put his hands on his hips as he flashed a look at her. Someplace on the floor above them, the dogs attacked, desperate and despairing screams echoing. Men, at least a dozen by the sounds of the thundering footsteps shattering what was left of the quiet, and gunfire rang out in short bursts; _paf-paf-paf-paf._ Victor flashed a grin and took off down the hall, Logan on his heels. Dukes ran the opposite direction, taking on a wave of oncoming bodies with all the subtlety of a freight train on full steam.

Bradley and Anya shared a grin with Wade. "And away we go," Wade headed out the nearest door into the thick of the action, a maniac laugh escaping him as he darted into the fray.

"Adds, how's about we…" Bradley turned to his left; Anya slipped away through a pocket door, sliding it closed behind her.

Victor chased a heavily armed man up the stairs, laughing like a demon, blood dripping from his mouth. Logan followed, no more a gentleman than his brother, his hands dripping heavily as well.

"Where's Anya?" Wade swung his sword like a baseball bat and decapitated another man. "I haven't seen her,"

"Dunno," Dukes backhanded a man; he flew back against the wall and left a human size dent in the drywall. "Stryker wanted her to run interference; she's probly just out runnin' around being a nuisance,"

"What a nuisance," Wade snickered. "I'm gonna win that bet by next week,"

"Boy," Dukes turned to face Wade, scowling. "I just think you're…shit, Wade, look out!"

* * *

"Find anything?" Anya found North pawing through a file cabinet brusquely.

"What's that?" Stryker jutted his chin at her hand.

Anya dropped the box on the table. "I found some cookies,"

"Wonderful," North cracked a mocking smile. "She found the cookies," He dropped the box. "Exactly what we needed."

"Not sharing with you," Anya perched on the edge of the desk, watching Stryker's eyes dance back and forth over a sheet of single-spaced typeface. "Hey, where's everybody else?"

"Knowing them, probably knee deep in dead bodies," North snorted. "Fred's probably busting up the bathrooms for good measure," A brief little smile crossed his face.

"What?" Anya slid her finger under the flap of the cookie box, ripping open the package absently.

"Guy thing," North cracked another baby smile.

"Okay," Anya sat back on the desk and pulled out a cookie. "I'll pretend that makes sense,"

Bradley ran through the door, panting and sweaty, streaked with blood. "Wade got tagged!"


	13. Alert for readers!

Hello Readers!

I know it's been a ridiculously long time since I've put anything up, and I know I could give you a handful of excuses to explain it all away, but I won't.

Honestly, I think the hiatus was good for the story.

Looking back on it, I was trying to cram WAY too much into what it is, and the beast is long overdue for a shave and a haircut, so to speak. I'll be leaving "Unlikely" and "Misplaced" as they are, but I'm rewriting "Unlikely" into something more plausible and, dare I say it, better.

I'll be leaving all 12 (13 really, including this) chapters of this monstrosity up until I've reached the equivilent of the plot thus far in the rewrite.

Please look for "Fever", the Unlikely rewrite, coming up soon.

Thank you all for your grace,

Lulu.


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